Uncovered Fantasies
by musicsnob357
Summary: Chorrie's sudden secret relationship with Professor Snape is demanding, thrilling, and complicated. She finds herself wanting more and more of him, until her heart wears thin. She must choose between two men: one who wants her, lusts for her, and one who loves her purely and wholly. Rated M for a LOT of sexual content including one rape scene, and language.
1. Invasions

**A/N: This is my third fanfic centered around Severus Snape. As an avid reader, I have fallen in love with many fictional characters… but he was my first, and the strongest. Some book characters are funny, or charming, or handsome, or rude, or cunning… but some are a mixture of many different traits that forms almost a real human—a work of art that you feel like you get to know. I feel like I know Snape. I adore him, as a character and work of art. That is why I write so many about him, and will continue to I'm sure… however I do not own him, or the Harry Potter series. I can only dream of creating such a beautiful character someday…**

This takes place many years before Harry comes to Hogwarts… Snape is around thirty, and Chorrie is around eighteen. 

"I have to say, I'm pretty excited for this year to be over," Katrina said, chomping on a chocolate frog. She chewed mercilessly with her mouth open, driving me crazy. "I'm ready to get out into the world, start working and really using magic, you know?"

I nodded, distracted. I am sitting by the window, and she's on the other side of the compartment. I know I'm wringing my hands together… it's an old nervous habit. I'm thinking about Professor Snape. He hasn't left my mind once this summer, an agonizing three months that it has been.

Some women get in healthy relationships, where both individuals are happy, where they grow together, where they talk and work things out. Other women, like myself, find men who are so incredibly screwed up that we are drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Since puberty I have been intoxicated by him. He is one of the youngest teachers, and most attractive, but those are not the reasons I find myself drawn to him. He is wounded—fatally so. I know that there is no fixing him, but deep inside my stomach I _yearn _for him. I yearn to know what it is that is eating him up. He is strong, with an insatiable lust for power. What would it feel like if he used that power against me? The thought made me shudder with pleasure. What I would give to be under his control—alone.

"Chorrie? You've been so quiet, are you alright?"

I look up at Katrina and smile. She has a young, kind face that is framed by wavy blonde hair. She's somewhat ditzy but book smart, and trustworthy. We met on the train to our first year at Hogwarts, and we've been inseparable ever since. We compliment each other well: I am witty where she is ditzy, she is personable where I am withdrawn, I am deep where she is oblivious, and she is light-hearted where I am too serious. In many ways we are total opposites, but it works. I think she is adorable, but she has always been jealous of my slightly curly brunette hair and green eyes. She's never let me down.

"Yeah, I'm just worried about my classes," I bluffed. I started to tell Katrina once during third year about my obsession with professor Snape… but then I thought better of it. She was way too much of a goody-two-shoes to ever think about a professor in that way, and professor Snape especially would be too much for her to understand.

"You think they'll be hard?"

"No… too boring, actually."

She chuckled. "Flitwick, for instance."

I grinned wryly. "I wasn't going to name names."

The train stopped at the station and we all started to get off to start the new school year. Katrina started complaining about how hungry she was… but my stomach was too full of knots to be able to keep down any food.

**xxxxxxxxx**

To my dismay, I only had potions once a week. Last year I'd had it twice a week. I had always been fairly good at potions, which was a good or bad thing depending on how you looked at it. It meant my grades were good, which was the positive side. The negative side was that I was neither good nor bad enough to be noticed by the Professor, which is what I desperately wanted.

I was constantly fighting with myself, wondering if I should make myself be worse so that he would notice me. Could I handle being ridiculed in front of the entire class?

A month went by with me considering the options. I had one year left in this castle until I would leave forever—and then I would never see him again. If I failed at making a couple of potions, my grade would survive… and he might notice me. Then I could bring my grades up. But oh, the humiliation of being pointed out as a failure in front of everyone…

Before my mind could decide, my clumsy nature decided for me. In the middle of a lecture, I sneezed and somehow dropped a bezoar into a half-completed potion… which immediately exploded and lit my entire table on fire. Snape reacted quickly, hastily pointing his wand at the flame and extinguished it with ease.

Then, he turned on me. I think it was the first time he ever made eye contact with me. It was perfectly terrifying. I felt my insides being sucked out of my body; my stomach squeezed in on itself. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see anything else—all my mind could register was the _anger_ that I saw in those intriguing blue-black eyes.

"Ms. Thompson! Explain yourself!"

_Oh, he knows my name. _I was speechless for a moment, which wasn't helping my embarrassment. Someone in the back of the class giggled. "I—I—" stuttering, really? I don't ever recall having a stuttering problem before staring into his gorgeous eyes. "It was an accident," I barely managed to squeeze out.

"Well, in a potions class as advanced as this one, you cannot simply have an _accident. _These are incredibly dangerous substances we're working with here!"

I could only nod.

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw. That should be enough to guarantee that it won't happen again!"

The rest of my house moaned, and I turned red from anger. "What! That isn't fair! It was just an accident and it won't happen again! It isn't necessary to punish my entire house!"

He swooped down in front of me, placing his hands on my desk and leaning in. "_Ms. _Thompson, don't you think it is my place to decide what _is _or _is not _necessary? Or perhaps I should take away more points?"

I gritted my teeth but held his gaze. An image flitted in and out of my mind… an image of him using those powerful hands that were planted on my desk to pull me tight to him, an image of him twisting his hands into my hair and pressing his lips to mine…

The image was there and gone in a second, but right as I saw it I saw surprise in his eyes… and he backed away ever so slightly. He looked away, and I won the staring contest. "Detention," he said more quietly, but still so that everyone could hear. His rough, nasally voice wasn't one that could be swept away in the wind. "Tonight at eight o'clock. For _mouthing off._"

He swooped away, but the feeling in my stomach remained. How was it… it seemed like he'd _seen _what I had fantasized. How could that be possible?

_And if it is possible… _my guts shrieked with humiliation at that possibility.

**xxxxxxxx**

I tried to sneak out without anyone noticing, especially Katrina. The last thing I needed was her sticking her nose into it—something that was normally a good thing, but at this point I was too sick to my stomach with nervousness to answer her many questions.

I won't lie: I tried to make myself look pretty before I left. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and toyed with my red-brown hair a little. I curled a few spots a little more, added a little bit of mascara to my eyelashes, put on a small t-shirt and some jeans. It was the evening, after classes… I was allowed to wear what I wanted, right? I changed my mind about the shirt just before I left, and put on a v-neck blouse. I wanted to forget to wear an undershirt so bad, but I wasn't brave enough to do that. So I put on the undershirt, but made sure I still had plenty showing if you were looking at just the right angle.

Did he like slutty girls? What if he notices that I'm trying? It isn't like me to wear these types of clothes. My watch read 7:55 when I finally said _screw this _and put my school robes back on.

Then I had to run. Really run, because if I was late, who knew what would happen.

Okay, so I was late on purpose. But I was only one minute late… I couldn't make myself be horrible late, because although it thrilled me, I was still afraid of the man.

I entered quietly, afraid to draw attention to myself. He was turned away from me, hunched over one of his desks. His shoulder moved ever so slightly, and I could tell that he was writing something. Even from the other side of the classroom, I could hear him muttering to himself. A few times I made up what sounded like _Damn you, Albus, _but who knows what I heard.

I stood behind him for a few long minutes, trying not to interrupt him. I tried not to watch him, either, but failed miserably at that. Whatever he was writing about, he was passionate about it. He was slouched quite a bit, leaning into it. He wasn't wearing his robes anymore, instead he wore a long-sleeved black t-shirt and very dark jeans. I could see the outline of his shoulder blades, and the lean muscle in his arms. There's something about a man's shoulders that can just make him look _strong. _He looked like the type that could really force you into something. It was embarrassing how much the thought of that turned me on. The thought of him shoving me up against a wall, pinning my arms above me and pressing his warm lips onto mine. The thought made me weak-kneed, thinking of all he could do to me. My mind began to wander into dangerous territory when suddenly he stopped writing.

_"Shit." _After a few moments, he turned around, eyes blazing. "Why didn't you announce yourself?" he asked coolly.

"I thought you would have heard me come in," I replied innocently, attempting to remove the inappropriate images from my head.

"I didn't," he snapped.

"Sorry." My answer was curt. I was trying very hard to not look weak to him… but it was incredibly difficult.

"You can clean the cauldrons," he snapped. "I left some over there. Leave me alone and this will be over quickly." I lingered for a moment, caught in his gaze, and then I went to work.

So cleaning cauldrons was _not _ideal, but what did I expect? Sitting right next to him and grading papers? It's not like we were going to _bond _over detention.

I began to accept the reality that I was an idiot, that this could never happen, and to stop acting so foolish. I scrubbed the cauldrons well, and took advantage of the fact that I could still admire his shoulders, back, and hair. The positive side of cleaning cauldrons is that it is a mindless task, so my thoughts wandered back to those hands.

I'd only had two boyfriends my entire life. I'd kissed both of them, and the second had clumsily gotten a clammy hand into my shirt and groped around a little bit. But I'd never experienced the feeling of someone who _knew _what they were doing… someone who wasn't a nervous child who didn't know their way around. What I could give for Professor Snape to touch me, to show me what _he _knows…

The thought made me wet. Made me close my eyes and nearly groan to think about his calloused hands seizing my nipple and tugging urgently at me. Thinking of his hands running down my hips, up my thighs, into my sex and claiming me as his own…

It was possible that these thoughts were effecting my cauldron cleaning skills, but I didn't care. It was impossible to be so close to him and not think these things. I was drinking in his presence, intoxicated by the sound of his breathing.

Constantly, I imagined his hands over me. Touching me in—

"Chorrie!"

I jumped so violently that I almost dropped a cauldron—thank Merlin I didn't.

_He knows my _first _name too?_

He slowly turned around and then violently pressed his forehead into his palm, as if debating whether or not he should say something. He spat something quickly under his breath and then growled, _"Clearly _you have no idea what legilimency is."

"No, sir."

"It is the ability to interpret thoughts in someone who has a guarded mind. Those with guarded minds are typically people who are _aware _of what legilimency is, however… those who don't know about it tend to have rather open minds. Even to a less skilled legilimens, your mind would be painfully easy to read. I am trying desperately not to hear what your mind is practically screaming, but like I said, you are so _goddamn _loud so _please, _I am begging you—_try and keep it down." _

I knew that the horror of what I was feeling must have been reflected on my face. _He heard everything_? His steely gaze never wavered, but mine did. I could feel walls building up around my mind as I became the person I always was—but I came that person _inwardly_. I built a wall so tall and wide that I didn't even allow myself to access the inner parts of my thoughts… if _I _couldn't reach it, then hopefully, neither could he.

"You're going to have to do better than that," he sneered.

How could I? There was not a single image of him left in my mind, yet I could feel him breaking down the walls… thinner than I thought they were, and the layers below were more fragile than what I thought, too. He easily extracted another fantasy, and another, and another, until nearly all of my fantasies about him—seven years worth!—were exposed for him to see.

I have been through way too much to break easily during any situation, but this was testing my sanity. How could I survive this? How could I look at him ever again?

"You are so young," he said tauntingly. It was meant to belittle me.

"I'm not that young," I said through gritted teeth.

"What could have possibly made you delusional enough to want someone like me?" The way he asked it was not a sincere question. He wasn't pitying himself or really wondering… it was more mocking than that. "Daddy smack you around when you were a kid? Now you need a big man to take control of you, just like Daddy did?"

I quickly stepped back. It felt like he had slapped me. "How dare you!" I shouted. "How dare you _pry _into my personal life—taking fantasies about you and throwing them in my face is one thing, but don't you _fucking _dare shove that in my face! You think you're so much better than me because you're the bully, not the bullied—well good for you! Excuse me for being _young _once, for having no control over who shoved me around or broke my heart."

Something in the way he looked at me a little less harsh made me realize, "You didn't know that, did you?" I felt like I could punch something. "You… you guessed."

He said nothing, but his cold gaze confirmed what I was asking. I laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. "I don't know why I want you," I whispered, afraid of what I was saying. I rolled up my sleeves to reveal a few cuts, and lots of circles. Scars from cigarettes being pressed into my arm. "Maybe because I thought you might have some of these too." I let my sleeve fall back down. "I understand most people fairly easily. You do too, I think. People are just predictable. But you… you intrigue me, and maybe that's why. Forgive me." My breathing was shallow now. "Can I leave?"

He stared, again saying nothing. So I turned to leave.

I was almost to the door when all of the sudden he was right next to me, shoving me up against it. "I am a dangerous person to be close to," he whispered harshly. "But now you have my interest too, Ms. Thompson. You are more than just childish fantasies and rebellious tendencies. But if you become involved with me, I can't promise that you'll walk a way without a few more scars…" he pulled up my sleeve and ran his finger over my skin. Immediately, I got goosebumps. My breathing hitched and my heart began to race. "You aren't as easy to read as I thought. I can feel your defenses and I can't penetrate every layer. That is… impressive."

All of my pent-up embarrassment and anger began to fade into pure lust as his lips got closer and closer to mine. He put a hand on my cheek, and slowly slid his fingers into my hair. He leaned into me and breathed onto my neck: "Stay away from me, if you know what's good for you, Ms. Thompson. Once I'm interested, it gets hard for me to let go…"

And then he took a step back, turned around, and walked away… leaving me reaching, yearning, hoping that he would touch me again.


	2. Distractions

**A/N: I already love this story so I'm probably going to continue no matter what, but please please please review! I love reading reviews, and if you have suggestions I will gladly take them into account. Enjoy.**

Oh, how I wish I was one of those girls who could just take action. One of those women who could just say, _he is what I want, _and go for it like that.

I am a chicken. It is impossible to describe the level of turmoil inside of me at this very minute, sitting in his classroom, staring at him, but still I can't bring myself to do anything.

He is astoundingly gorgeous. Not in the typical, muscular, handsome, nice face kind of way… but the way that sneaks up on you. The kind of gorgeous that catches you one day in your stomach and just makes you notice, _those dark eyes. _His shaggy, ink-black hair. What would it feel like to run your hands through that hair? And then you're stuck in his web, unable to free yourself from a lust that grips you like a fist holding play-dough. I am the play-dough, without a doubt.

Alexa _freakin' _Grant is talking to him right now. She's one of the biggest sluts in Slytherin. Something about the way she's twirling her hair with her pinky finger just makes my stomach boil.

I'm focusing intently on my potion, trying desperately to _only _think about my potion—because I know he is listening. Now I know that he will always be listening. That's the worst part. And I know so little about that! Could he pick me out of a crowd? What about at dinner, can he hear me then? Merlin, I hope not. I _am _keeping the lustful thoughts to a minimum, but I can't restrain them all the time. Ever since feeling his skin on my skin, it has been a battle to keep him out of my mind. The way he whispered in my ear, the way he _teased _me just made me want to throw things. The way his eyes just burned into mine, found my deepest secrets with so little effort… it was frustrating. Any mystery I might've had seemed to disappear. Although he said he couldn't see everything. He could see enough, though. He could see all of my wildest fantasies, every way that I want him to touch me, he saw. That's why he whispered in my ear—

"Better things to do than your assignment, Ms. Thompson?"

_Damn it! _"No, _Professor_, I was just daydreaming for a second. Believe me it won't happen again."

He leaned in a little closer. "Something tells me it will happen again."

Just the intimacy of a private comment like that made my mind release a flood of images and emotions that left me unguarded. After eighteen years of not having to monitor your thoughts, it was difficult to start. _Very _difficult.

He continued walking away, but I knew that he could hear everything. He could feel my struggle, could see how he was effecting me.

Half of me was furious, and half of me was too lost in longing to care.

**xxxxxxxx**

That night, Katrina and I stayed up talking with a few other Ravenclaws. I wasn't really much of a talker when it came to groups like this, but I always found it interesting to hear what everyone was gossiping about.

There were two boys at the center of the conversation tonight: Mitchell Craftwood, a seventh year transfer who had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and Oliver Bash—a sixth year who had the heart of almost every Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the school. He was a little too ditzy for me, but I had to admit that he had nice hair and very friendly hazel eyes. He seemed like a nice guy, but definitely charming, too, and that was never really my type.

"Mitchell is _gorgeous, _and he's a Seeker—of course," said Missy, a fourth-year who was known for being pretty boy-crazy. "His muscles—_Merlin._ I can't think of anything about him that _isn't _perfect. Except for the fact that he probably doesn't even know my name!"

"I love his hair. It's like the perfect red-brown color," Katrina added. "And he's actually really smart, which is a major bonus."

"Well if he's so perfect, I'm sure he thinks he's too good for anyone, huh?" I asked. It's sad that I hadn't even seen the guy—I was too oblivious to the world outside of Snape.

The rest of the group giggled and looked at each other and then quickly away. "Wh…whaat?" I asked, half laughing. "What are you all laughing at!"

Missy piped up again: "Chorrie, how haven't you noticed that he's in like four of your classes, and he's _always _staring at you! _We've _all noticed, that's for sure. You lucky girl."

My jaw dropped just a little bit. _"Me? _You're joking!"

Even Katrina shook her head. "I've noticed too, Chor. He really likes you."

I almost found this funny. The most gorgeous guy in the school was apparently interested in me? And the sad thing was, I couldn't be less available. I didn't want anything to do with him.

**xxxxxxxx**

Unfortunately for me, Mitchell had other plans. He approached me the very next day during Transfigurations. "Hey, it's Chorrie—right?"

I looked up from my book to find a very muscular, lean, spiky-haired man-boy peering down at me. He had an angular jaw but and nice smile, even though it didn't quite reach his eyes. He _was _nice to look at, but after memorizing every line on Snape's body, he fell short.

"Er—yeah, it is." I am _not _good at the whole popular people/flirting scene. I'm too sarcastic and witty for these types of conversations.

"Listen I'm kind of new here, so I don't know anyone."

"Oh."

He chuckled awkwardly, but in a way that said, I do this all the time. It annoyed me. "So maybe I could know you? Would you help me out?"

I found myself mirroring his fake smile. "Sure, no problem."

"Great. I'm Mitchell, although you probably already knew that."

"Yeah, I did."

The class ended and we walked out together. "You have the most stunning eyes," he said skillfully.

"Thanks," I replied, trying very hard to be sincere.

"Look, I have to admit, I've been watching you for a while now. I think you are really beautiful, Chorrie. Hopefully that doesn't creep you out."

"Uh—no, of course not—thanks, Mitchell." I fumbled on my words, and suddenly felt really inadequate for this sort of situation. Why was he interested in me? Shouldn't he be into the Barbie type like Missy? There was something wrong with this picture.

"Good." He smiled again, a little more genuinely.

"So… tell me about yourself." I caught sight of Katrina across the courtyard and she flashed me a thumbs up. I smiled just a tiny bit but avoided looking at her after that.

"Well I'm a Seeker. My favorite subject is potions. I'm pureblood, not that that really matters—" he laughed dryly, "—and I collect chocolate frog cards. What about you?"

"My favorite subject is also potions. I'm not pureblood… not that that really matters." I said this with unease because I had a feeling that it did matter to him. "I like butterbeer a lot. I'm kind of a nerd, I guess."

"Me too. I get pretty good grades."

"I've heard."

He laughed.

**xxxxxxxx**

For better or for worse, Mitchell stayed interested in me. We began to walk each other to classes, talk at lunch, talk after dinner, and do other various things together. Although he wasn't the best of company, he did occasionally make me laugh and also kept my mind off Snape for the most part.

Mitchell was book smart, but he wasn't exactly "deep." He could talk about the laws of the Ministry of Magic, but he couldn't argue the morality of any of those laws. He was an open book, easily read and easy to figure out. He didn't realize that I wasn't, and if he did ever realize, I don't think he would have cared. I didn't mind much… it's not like I was going to marry him, and he was a good distraction. Plus, being the envy of almost every girl at Hogwarts wasn't so bad either.

One night in the library we were studying for a big potions exam when he stopped and cupped my chin. "Your eyes are so beautiful when you laugh," he said easily. His smile really reached his eyes when he said that, in a way that made me actually like him a little more than normal. He almost looked cute, when he smiled like that.

After he said that, he gently kissed me. I could tell that he was very rehearsed. He leaned in slowly, and carefully placed his mouth on mine, but he was not afraid. His lips sucked gently on my bottom lip, and his hands found my hair. I didn't move at all, not sure if this was what I wanted, but I didn't fight him.

As he became more involved in the kiss, so did I. He pulled me closer, and I lifted my hands to his chest. He opened his mouth ever so slightly, and I did, too. It felt good, to kiss him. Innocent. I was sure, even then, that he had an agenda… but I thought, this is okay. It's okay to have a normal relationship. He pulled me closer, sliding his tongue into my mouth. That was a little too much, but I still allowed it. He was so well rehearsed that it turned me off a little bit. I felt like something he could add to a collection. Luckily, he pulled away before I could break it off, and then he kissed my forehead, which was nice.

**xxxxxxxxx**

Unfortunately, the kissing turned into a regular thing. And not just late at night in the library, but on the lawn, and outside of classrooms, and before we left to go to bed. It was a very public deal, and I wasn't okay with that. I could break it off before it became a full-on make-out session, but it annoyed me that I had to do that. Things continued like this for several weeks.

Then one night, he took me to one of those rooms deep in the castle, that very few people know about, and those who do know about them never visit them. It was virtually empty, with a few abandoned picture frames laying around and some antique muggle cameras.

He smiled at me and pulled me close to him. One thing I liked about him was the feeling of having his muscles wrapped around me. It was a secure feeling.

Very quickly I realized what his intentions were with this empty room. I allowed him to kiss me deeper and deeper, swirling around my tongue with his, but when his hand reached my shirt, I began to protest. "Mitchell, no, this isn't right."

"Baby, I'm into you. You're into me. Why isn't it right?" It wasn't even really a question. He didn't stop while he asked it, he just continued to tug on my shirt until the buttons came loose and it fell to the floor. He was incredibly strong. When he held me, I had no room to move, and not enough strength to get away.

His hand was on my bra as he other hand held me close. My mind was reeling. At this point I wasn't in the kicking-and-scratching mode yet, in hopes that he would stop. He removed my bra and roughly tugged on each of my nipples in a way that disgusted me more than turned me on. He bit, too hard, and traveled down to my pants. He was strong enough to pull me on the floor and get on top of me. It amazed me how quickly he had my pants off, and at this point, I _did _struggle. I couldn't move my arms at all, but I kicked, and I tried desperately to butt my head onto _anything—_but he held me back.

I had never had sex before. The frightening thought that this could be my first time made me want to hurl. After he had been just laying on me for long minutes, I gave up my struggle. My arms, abs, and leg muscles ached and my chest cried out for relief. It would be over soon, and he would let me go.

_I am _not _a weak person, _I told myself. _How could this happen to _me? _This happens to people who are careless, or have asshole boyfriends, or… _Ugh, part of me felt that I had brought this on myself. Dating someone I barely even _liked—_what was I thinking?

He removed his clothes while still restraining me, and then kissed slowly down my body. "You're going to like this, baby," he murmured. His voice was disgustingly boyish.

His penis was average-sized and very erect. His hot breath was on my neck as he entered me. I was dry, and it hurt, _God_, it hurt. I wanted to scream, but I held it in. I buried everything in my stomach and just focused on that ball of anxiety, trying to lose my surroundings. It was hard to forget, with the crushing pain in my chest and the ripping pain in my sex, but I _tried_.

He thrusted into me, again and again, completely at ease. I laid my head on the floor, and tears streamed from my eyes and dripped into my ears. _How did I let this happen_? I was so angry at myself. In a matter of minutes, I had found my ability to block everything out, to close my eyes and not be here.

At around that time was when someone grabbed Mitchell and yanked him violently upward. Mitchell grabbed on to me, and I went flying, too. Mitchell landed on top of me, and I landed on top of a pile of concrete.

The last thing I remember before blacking out is Severus Snape heaving Mitchell off of me and throwing him like a ragdoll across the room.


	3. So Close

I woke with a pounding headache on a bed that I was sure was not my own. The sheets were clean and crisp.

Everything hurt. All of my insides. My intestines felt twisted and sour. My core was achy and torn from that bastard that I had dated. My head hurt from being smashed into the concrete. My arms and abs hurt from struggling. I felt like a _thing _that had been used and confiscated. All of my limbs were wobbly and lacked any strength whatsoever. I felt dead emotionally and physically. If someone had attacked me at that moment, they most certainly would have won.

It's dark, so I don't try to sit up. I just sit, and think. I think back to a week ago, in potions.

_Mitchell is sitting next to me, and he keeps winking at me. It's stupid, but fun, I guess. I'm not very good at this dating thing._

_ Professor Snape is watching me from the front of the classroom. I'm not looking at him, but I can feel his stare. For the first time I wonder if he is jealous. A small part of me purrs my enthusiasm at this idea. A larger part of me thinks, you idiot. He would never be jealous of someone being with you. He doesn't want you—you want him! _

_ As the class cleared out at the end of the period, Snape grabbed my arm and told me to come to the front of the classroom. He waited until everyone had emptied the classroom and then he asked, "What are you doing?"_

_ Somehow, I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had thought about Mitchell during potions—thought about what it felt like to kiss him. Just hoping that Snape would be listening. I hadn't hidden the fact that I don't feel anything when I kiss him, either. "What are you talking about?" _

_ "Letting a _boy _kiss you when you aren't really interested is never a good idea."_

_ "Who says I'm not interested?"_

_ He narrowed his eyes at me. "Don't play games, Ms. Thompson. You know I can hear you."_

_ And by hear he meant, I can read your mind. Bastard. I'm not going to lie, I found it fun that he was interested, even though I didn't know why he was interested. "It's just kissing. I'm allowed to kiss."_

_ "Boys like that aren't going to stop at kissing," he growled forcefully._

_ I could tell he wasn't playing, so I stopped smiling and yanked my arm away from his grasp. "I can handle myself, Professor. Stay out of my personal life." _

Laying in that bed, I felt so stupid. Stupid because he'd _predicted _this would happen, and then stupid because he was the one who had _found _us! It made me want to cry just thinking about it. So I did. I cried. I'm not much of a crier. I cried and cried and cried when I was little, when my father would abuse me, but after I got old enough to learn that he just enjoyed that… I learned to control it. I doubt I've cried since I was eleven or twelve years old.

Thankfully, the tears lulled me into a harsh sleep.

**xxxxxxxx**

Madame Pomfrey woke me early in the morning. "Good morning, my dear," she said. "You've had quite the head trama, so I've just woken you to tell you that I have to give you this potion a few times a day for just two days. It will make you quite tired and unfortunately will give you fairly bad dreams—I'm sorry about that."

I groggily murmured something like, "That's okay," and then drank the potion, and then went back to sleep.

_Crap, crap, crap, crap._

_ Somehow, I had managed to make all of the clean dishes levitate in a circle around my head. Dad was due to be home any minute. I might as well have put a target on myself._

_ At ten years old, I had no idea what was happening to me. Dad called them "unnatural freak accidents"—little incidences that should never be spoken of and NEVER repeated, or there would be severe consequences. I didn't understand how I made these things happen, and I didn't understand why they were so bad. What's wrong with some floating dishes, or making a toy disappear, or duplicating a piece of mail? All of these things were harmless, yet whenever I had an "accident"… the consequences were severe, as he always warned. _

_ I tried to focus my brain on what was happening. I stood perfectly still and thought to myself, put the dishes down, put the dishes down, put the dishes—_

_ "You filthy brat! Put down the dishes!" _

_ I turned quickly to see my father hauling a big box in and suddenly all the dishes crashed to the floor. Pieces flew everywhere—a few scraped at my shins and some even reached Dad. _

_ "I was gone for ten minutes, damn it! Why can't I leave you alone at all, you piece of shit?" He threw the box on the ground and started towards me. I didn't run—I'd tried that a few times, and when he caught me, it was only worse. He grabbed me by my thin, malnourished arms and ordered me to kick my flip flops off. I did as I was told. He set me back down and then barked, "Walk."_

_ I looked all around for a spot that was not covered in glass, but as I'm sure he realized, there were none. I whimpered ever so quietly and then gently placed a foot over several shards of glass._

_ The pain was immediate. It was a smoother, more precise pain than I'd ever felt before. I'd had countless burns and cuts, but the slice of glass was so different. I could almost ignore it as I crunched over the glass, but as the cuts got deeper and deeper I could feel the pain radiating up my legs._

_ I held my breath until I got to the other side, and then he gave me my flip flops back. "Clean it up," he ordered. _

_ He watched as I swept every last shard up. Then he stood, staring at me, anger burning in his eyes. "I don't know what the hell to do with you," he finally growled. "You never listen to me. No matter how many times I discipline you, you still do stupid shit like this."_

_ I stared at the ground and my face turned to stone. Any sign of weakness and I'd be ridiculed and beaten. If I spoke, he'd either be sarcastic, or be meaner. I didn't want to risk anything._

_ "If your mother was alive she'd be disgusted with how you turned out to be such a freak."_

_ I almost flinched at this, but I took solace in knowing that it was not true. My mother was an angel, and she left me a letter telling me that things like this may happen, and I just had to wait a little while and I'd get some answers. And that Daddy would take care of me. She'd been wrong about that, but I was hoping she was right about the answers part. A year later, I would find out that she was, but it was a painful eleven years up until then._

_ The smack came hard and fast. I'd been smacked so many times that it was almost comforting to just be smacked. The sting just below my eye was familiar. He smacked me three times, and then one more time hard enough to knock me to the ground. Then he walked away, grumbling to himself. _

I awoke watery-eyed but pain-free. Thankfully, my father was in my past, and my head no longer hurt from hitting it on the ground.

I slowly opened my eyes in case the room was bright, but it seemed to be night time again. However, as my eyes adjusted, I became aware of someone else being beside me.

There was a robed figure sitting beside my bed, his head in his hands. I could tell by the thick black hair that it was Professor Snape. My insides curled with revulsion towards myself, humiliation, and longing for him to… to what? Hold me? Is that what I needed?

I had never _needed _anyone, and I prided myself on that fact. But at this moment I had to fight the urge to reach out to him, to ask him to be my strength because I had none.

He looked up at me and his eyes met mine. I found pain in there, and that did not help what I was feeling. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped at him.

He moved quickly from his chair to my bed. He crouched over me, leaning close, his eyes blazing with anger and hatred. He searched mine, and I did my best to wall off my mind.

"You can relax," he said. "I'm not searching your mind. Please, Chorrie, relax."

Hearing him say my name both soothed and excited me. But why was there hatred in his mind?

"How did you not kill him, or yourself? How did you make it this far with a father like that?"

Of course. He saw my dreams. Part of me thought I should be angry about that… but I wasn't. I wasn't angry. "My mother was strong. She kept me strong."

"She watched him treat you like that?"

"No, she died when I was two. But she… watched over me, you know?"

He nodded and we were both quiet for several long moments. Suddenly there was a loud _pop _and I jumped, considerable. Snape seized my shoulders in a rather awkward, but kind attempt to let me know it was nothing. "Just a potion bubbling."

As much as I didn't want to ask, I had to know: "Mitchell…?"

"He's been expelled, and since he's seventeen he was turned over to the Ministry. Personally, I wish they would have let me hold onto him for a few days…"

Happiness swelled in my chest when I heard him say that. He admitted, just a little bit, that he cared enough about me to beat the crap out of a guy who hurt me. A small smile squeezed out of my lips.

I could feel him probing my thoughts ever so slightly and he said, "You could attempt to hide that, you know."

I turned onto my side, and put my hand on his. He twitched, but didn't move away. "Stay," I whispered. I thought I was going to fall asleep, but his presence had every nerve in my body standing still. I could feel the old aching coming back just as strong as ever. He was so close, but I didn't want to push what I was already getting.

"How did you know that I was there?"

He didn't look at me. "I'm not sure." I could tell he was being honest.

With a shaky voice I said, "I wish you had come sooner." After I said it I almost dissolved into a puddle of tears again, but somehow I managed to keep it together this time.

He seemed to sense that I was running out of the glue that held me together. I could still see that hot anger in his eyes, and he muttered under his breath, _"fucking son of a bitch." _The words were harsh, and scary, but oh, I loved them coming out of his mouth.

He looked back at me. Our eyes met and I could feel a fire lighting in my core. Every part of my hurt, battered body longed for him. I put that thought in my mind and told him he could have it. He could have me. I could handle him, if he could handle me.

"Chorrie, everything is wrong about this," he murmured.

"I know," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat.

I could see it in his eyes that he didn't care, either. With a hand on either side of me, he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. He was cautious at first, perhaps because I was broken and in a hospital bed. His lips were soft and molded easily to fit mine. He lingered for two, five, twenty seconds in the same spot, and then gently placed a hand on the side of my face.

His breath was warm and smelled slightly sweet. I loved the way his nose pressed slightly into my cheek, and the feeling of his hair just barely brushing my face, and the tiny bit of stubble around his mouth. He opened his mouth slightly, breathing me in, pressing closer into me. I groaned, just a little bit, letting him know that this is exactly what I wanted, always. He was stiff and rigid above me, but I could feel the passion radiating off of him. He wanted me, too.

I opened my mouth completely against his, inviting him in, but he pulled away. "You have been through a lot in the past two days, Chorrie. I don't want to add to your complications."

My eyes widened with fear. "Don't go! Please, don't go!"

"I have to go." His eyes were clouded with an honesty I'd never seen before. He was so torn between his own lust and wanting to protect me. He urgently pressed his lips against mine one last time before exiting the hospital wing.


	4. Humiliation

**A/N: Thank you very very very much to those who have reviewed. Please if you are reading, review, I loooove reviews! Feel free to include any suggestions too! xoxo **

My last day in the hospital wing was a painful one. The medication made me tired, but I was restless. This concerned madame Pomfrey greatly, so she was often at my bedside fussing over me. I couldn't sleep—what if he came by again and I wasn't awake? I hadn't slept since he left over 20 hours ago. Now it was shortly after eight o'clock again, the sun was going down, it was quiet… and I was so tired. I tried desperately to keep my eyes open, but to no avail. Slowly, I drifted into another night of painful dreams.

Tonight, they were scattered and more full of emotion than one specific instance. Mostly images of my dad—the first time he hit me, when I fell and hit my head on the counter on the way down. The second time, when I was more prepared, but it hurt all the same. The feeling of being relaxed, drifting off on the couch, and then he would press his cigarette into my arm and yell at me to get up and go sleep in my own bed that he'd provided for me. Images came and went, painful but short, all night long. Many were full of yelling, accompanied by the familiar sting of a slap to the cheek. Some more horrible came through… times when he'd slammed my head into the wall, or thrown something huge at me, or nearly choked me to death. At times I felt like I was asphyxiating in my sleep.

I woke early the next morning to the door to the hospital wing opening quickly. I saw his robes barely as he exited the room… I knew he'd been watching me sleep again. But clearly, he did not want to talk to me. Anger and confusion boiled in my stomach.

Madame Pomfrey rushed over when she saw that I was awake. "How are you feeling?"

"Better."

"Good. I think you are ready to go. Don't worry about classes today, though. Your friend Katrina is here to bring you to breakfast, as long as you feel up to it."

Katrina was standing on the other side of the bed. I hadn't even noticed her standing there. "Yeah, I do."

She watched as I slowly lifted myself out of bed, and then hurried to the next sick student. I looked at Katrina and she smiled faintly at me. "Ready to go?" Her lower lip was trembling. Oh Merlin, she was really upset.

"Of course."

We exited the hospital wing. The first thing she said was: "Professor Snape was watching you sleep. Like… _intently _watching."

"I saw."

She stopped to turn and look at me. We didn't say anything more on that subject because she collapsed into tears. She threw her arms around me and sobbed into my hair. "Chorrie, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry that happened to you!"

I hugged her back, feeling a little weak.

"I encouraged that relationship, it's practically my fault!"

"Oh, shut up, Kat. It's not your fault in any way."

She squeezed me tighter. "I'm _so _sorry."

After a few long minutes, we separated. Silently, we began to walk down the halls to go to breakfast. She continued to sniffle a little bit. I congratulated myself on keeping it together so well. I didn't shed one tear.

We were passing a group of third-years, and that was the first time I heard it.

_"Slut."_

It made me freeze in the middle of the hallway. I didn't look to see who had said it, I didn't say anything back, I just stopped. _Did I really just hear that? _Katrina whimpered a little bit again and covered her face, but I could see from her expression that she knew it was coming.

In the next few weeks, my entire world crumbled. I practically forgot my first name, because the only words people would use to address me were slut, whore, or hooker. It really surprised me, the way people reacted. I didn't know how the story was told, or who told it, but whoever did made sure it was juicy and fabricated the facts very well.

Missy and the rest of the girls in my dormitory wouldn't speak to me, apart from Katrina. The Slytherine girls would cast enchantments that would shorten my skirt dramatically, or increase my breast size, or dye my hair. I found myself walking in the shadows to and from class, eating meals alone on my bed, and never participating in any activities.

I knew that I wasn't a slut. I _knew _it, but it didn't change the fact that after so many people call you a slut for so long… it wears on you. It leaves scars and changes your view of yourself. I couldn't look in the mirror, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat. Katrina supported me, but even she avoided me sometimes because she didn't like the conflict. I didn't blame her.

Besides the rare occasions Katrina would be with me, I was utterly alone. Professor Snape didn't ever even make eye contact with me, let alone try to talk to me. After a while, I stopped looking at him, too.

It was three weeks and four days since I had been raped, and 2:15 in the afternoon. I was walking to potions, feeling a lesser degree of miserable than normal because I hadn't been called anything derogatory today.

I was walking in the shadows, practically invisible, but he still found me. Blane, I think his name was… a friend of Mitchell's. He shoved me, and caught me so off guard that I fell to the ground with my back to the wall. He crouched towards me, sneering as he said, "Hey whore, watch where you're going."

A large part of me wanted so badly to shove him away from me, but of course, he was much bigger than me. "Sorry," was all I managed to say without spitting in his face. I knew my wand was just a second away from my hand, but I could see that his was just as close to his hand. If I cursed him, what worse curse would he inflict on me?

He grabbed my chin and said, "You haven't had much action in a while, hm? A little whore like you probably needs lots of action to be satisfied. I can help you out, babe." He placed a sloppy kiss on my lips, but I _did _shove him after that. Like _hell _I was letting this happen again.

"Get away from me!" I spat.

"Oh, c'mon Chorrie. You'll put out for Mitch, but not for me? Am I really so bad? Of course not… just behave. I can make you really happy." He leaned in again, but I reached out and shoved him so hard that he actually did stumble back a little bit.

I stood and shoved him again before he could do anything else. "Get. Away. From. Me."

He spat at my feet. "Fine, bitch." With that, he shoved me into the wall, and walked away. I knew the side of my face was scraped—it was bleeding a little—but it was okay. He'd left. I was okay.

I was late to class, and I know that he noticed. He looked at the door as it opened, watched me take my seat, but he said nothing. He wouldn't even punish me for tardiness—that's how much he was trying to avoid me.

I didn't do my potion. I put some of the ingredients in the cauldron, but I couldn't focus. I was proud of myself for not crying—it seemed that the old, tough me was returning, and I was glad for that. I was sick of crying.

I wondered how long this would go on. I replayed the scene with Blane in my head again. Were all guys pigs like that? _Of course not, _I thought bitterly. I'd had two bad experiences… I shouldn't base the whole gender on two guys.

I used to constantly think of Professor Snape, my grades, and the few friends I had… all petty things that had once been important. Although I still ached to touch and be with Professor Snape, my mind was too dark and preoccupied to think of things like that. When I closed my eyes, now all I could see was the entire school staring at me the way that they do now. Like I'm filthy. Like I'm the whore that they say I am. In three weeks my entire life had crumbled, and I wasn't sure if there was anything I could do to recover from it. Was I just supposed to hide in the shadows for the rest of my time here at Hogwarts?

A knot of anger formed in my throat. Was there no justice in the world? I get raped, and then the entire school views me as a slut. Why? Who would portray me in that way? It didn't matter. I didn't care who had spread the story, who had said it in that way… it was just that _everyone had believe them. _Everyone felt I deserved what I got, without exception. How was that fair?

My hands were constantly shaky now. I had a thin grip on my sanity—my strength was all that kept me alive. But I was strong in the weakest way… I felt that at any moment I could snap, shatter into a thousand pieces. As I picked up my ingredients, my hands shook, and that made me so mad. I had worked my entire life to build up myself, to be strong, to not be manhandled in the way I had been my whole life… and for what? I certainly wasn't very strong now. I gripped the sides of my chair to distract myself from my shaky hands.

I drew in a breath and looked up at Professor Snape. He was angled towards me, his head tipped forward, staring intently at the floor. Was he listening? Did he care any more? I felt like he did care, but he definitely wasn't showing it at all.

_Slut. _The word echoed in my mind until the bell rang. It was at that point that I realized I'd just failed my first potions class.

**xxxxxx**

A week later, Katrina had convinced me to go to lunch again. I felt like people were staring, but no one said anything to me as I sat down. For a few days, things had been quiet. No more accusations, no more name-calling… it seemed that the gossip surrounding me had finally died down.

The others talked easily around me. I didn't talk, but I listened. I felt okay.

Suddenly a hand grasped my shoulder. I flinched, jumpier now than ever, and turned around. It was Professor Dumbledore, peering down at me through his half-moon spectacles, smiling faintly. "Ms. Thompson, may I have a word?"

What was this about? Surely he had not heard the rumors too? Did he wish to speak to me about that? That would be mortifying.

I stood and followed him to the back of the room. Everyone was eating noisily, so we could talk and not be overheard.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch, but I assure you, you will be back in time for desert."

"Uh, no problem, Professor."

"How have you been feeling since your departure from the hospital wing?"

"Fine, thanks."

"I'm glad to hear that. I think it may be best if you sat down, Ms. Thompson." We both sat at the empty end of one of the tables.

I waited for him to tell me what was going on. "I regret to inform you that this morning we were notified by owl that your father died last night."

We sat in silence for seconds or minutes or hours until I finally said, "Oh."

He placed a hand on my shoulder. He was about to say something else, but then I interjected: "How did he die?" The bastard had always been in perfect health when I lived with him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "He killed himself."

My stomach dropped at the sound of this. What a disappointing death. He had always been weak. I had moved out when I turned seventeen and hadn't seen the man since. He was no father to me, but still, this shook me a little.

I looked away, unable to keep eye contact with him, and my eyes drifted to the front of the hall. Although it was distant, I still saw. I saw that Snape was staring at me, his eyes sharp and focused on mine. This, too, made my stomach do a flip.

"Thank you for telling me," was all I could finally say.

"I am available if you wish to talk to me, as are any of the other Professors. Feel free at any time."

"Thanks," I repeated, not looking at him.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, Professor. He was never much of a father to me."

He nodded. "I suspected as much. You are free to go."

I stood and walked back to sit by Katrina. The news did shock me… I was surprised he would have done something like that. You'd think that after he'd gotten rid of his terrible daughter his life would be so much better.

"What did Dumbledore want?" Katrina asked.

"He just asked if I'd tutor this first year who's doing really bad in potions."

She nodded and returned to her pudding, unsuspecting of anything.

**xxxxxxxx **

Another potions class slipped by, another potion I failed to make. As I was getting up to leave, he finally—_finally_—touched my arm, and said softly, "Stay." I didn't turn to look at him… I was afraid of what I'd see. Anger? Disappointment? Longing?

When the entire class was gone, he turned me around to face him. "What the hell are you doing?"

My eyes narrowed at him. "What do you mean?" I asked flatly.

"This is the second potion you have not completed. You are _not _a mediocre student, Chorrie. What's happening to you?"

"Nothing. I just messed up a few times, isn't that allowed?"

His eyes flitted back and forth between mine. I could feel his hands grasping my arms, they felt like fire. The heat was dancing between us, I could feel it radiating from his chest, his eyes, his shoulders. I shook under his gaze. Once, I would have had the willpower to look straight into those murky blue-black eyes… but lately, I had very little willpower.

"You aren't 'messing up,' you're self-destructing! What is this about? The rumors? Your friends avoiding you? Your father?"

"I thought you didn't want anything to do with me," I said bitterly.

"I can't, Chorrie! I can't be near you!" He was practically shaking me.

"Why!?" My words were forceful, too. "Am I that repulsive!"

He laughed dryly, a growl rising in his throat. "How could you ever think you are repulsive?"

"Seriously? You don't have to be a genius to see why. Girls avoid me like I have an STD. Boys throw themselves at me because they think I'm easy. _You _can't even make eye contact with me because you're so disgusted! I'm filth, Professor! What he did to me no one can erase, and no one can forget. I'm marked, _ruined._ People treat me like dirt because I _am _dirt."

He didn't say anything. I could feel his mind, reaching out to mine, asking for permission. I built those walls up again, and this time they were better. He couldn't easily penetrate them. I liked this feeling—being able to control what he saw.

"People have treated me like shit my entire life," I said quietly. "I don't… I don't think I'm worthless. But can't I have a break? A break from pretending everything's okay, for just a little while?"

A single tear slid down my cheek, and he removed one of his hands from my arm to wipe it away. I closed my eyes at his touch, and felt the fire move from my face all the way down my body. He was so close. I could see in his eyes, the battle that was going on. Finally, I could see the longing in his eyes that I had wanted to see for so long. Reason was battling desire, and I couldn't tell which was winning.

"I have wanted you for so long," I whispered.

I could see the lust in his eyes as I said this, the feelings that were becoming unbearable. "You are everything I am not," He responded. "You are incredibly intelligent, you have a shitty life, yet you are strong… you are brilliant and pure… impossibly pure. You astound me." He leaned in and kissed my neck. He trailed from my collar bone to my jawline, tiny, light kisses that made me melt under him. He hands left my arms and began wrapping around my body, pulling me into him.

He was such a large person. He towered over me in height and stature. I felt helpless, but not in a bad way this time. I was willing to do anything he wanted me to do. I wanted him to take me in every way possible, to ruin me for the rest of the world, to make me _his. _I'd wanted him for so long.

When his lips met mine, I felt something explode inside of me. I lifted my hands to his hair and tangled my fingers into it. It was an incredible feeling, grasping his soft black hair. He groaned into the kiss, pulling me so hard into him. He worked his mouth forcefully against mine, taking all that he wanted. I begged him for more, opening my mouth against his. His tongue snaked into my mouth, exploring every deep corner. It was exquisite—everything I'd ever hoped for in a kiss.

He pulled me up and sat me on a desk. Things fell to the ground as he pushed me around. I wrapped my legs around him, and suddenly I could feel his manhood pushing into me. He was completely erect—already so hard. That made me kiss him even harder, amazed at how aroused he was.

His lips were soft and his breath was musky. His arms and body almost completely covered me—oh, I loved that. When his lips left mine, I let out a moan of frustration. His hands dropped to his side, and his eyes met mine once more. "One thing is for sure," He whispered. "I will not be ignoring you ever again."


	5. Finally

Professor Snape's statement of "I will never ignore you again" helped me survive my days. I did better in my classes. I talked, a tiny bit, at lunch… mostly just to appease Katrina. I ate more, studied more, and laughed more. The only thing I didn't do more of was sleep.

I found it impossible to sleep when all I could think about were his hands on me. His lips, controlling mine, his tongue inside my mouth. Kissing a teacher was painfully amazing. He knew what he was doing, and I loved that.

Today, I was late to potions for the second time in my life. I'm not sure why I was late… part of it was just carelessness, but part of it, I'll admit… was for the attention.

"Ms. Thompson," he sneered, as I walked in the door. The entire class turned to look at me. "Do you have better things to be doing instead of making it to potions on time?"

"No, Professor… I just lost track of time."

"That is… inexcusable. Detention, tonight, and believe me, you _better _be on time for that." The way he looked at me—eyes narrowed, mouth in a hard line on his face—made me squirm with anticipation.

"Sorry." I sat in my seat and proceeded to make my potion perfectly, thinking of what was to come the entire time.

**xxxxxxx**

I did make it to detention on time. Although it was fun to mess with him, I didn't want to push my luck.

He was standing near the door, waiting for me. As soon as the door shut behind me, he shoved me up against the wall, roughly pinning my arms above my head. "So, you think that since I've touched you, you can do anything you want?" He growled at me. His face was mere centimeters away from mine.

A sly grin flashed across my face. I could see that my slight arrogance both amused and annoyed him. "Foolish girl," he snarled. "I will not permit you to be late to my class again—" he put his mouth to my ear, "—and if you are… the consequences will be… _severe._" His nasally voice was an incredible turn-on when he whispered. "_Am I understood_?"

He was pressing so hard into me that it was difficult to breathe, but I didn't squirm. I held his eye contact, fighting against his probing mind, trying desperately to hide how much I wanted this. How much I wanted him to be this close to me. "And what if I _like _these consequences?" I murmured playfully.

His eyes narrowed. "Trust me, child, you will not."

The darkness in his eyes _did _make me squirm. I saw his dark, terrifying side—and as much as I lusted after that part of him, I was afraid.

"I like to see you squirm," he purred in my ear.

Tonight, he was not thinking for my wellbeing, I could tell. The soft side of him I'd had a glimpse of was gone. Pressed against me was the hungry, lustful man that I thought he would be. And that lust was directed at _me. _No longer was there worry reflected in his eyes, and he did not touch me gently. If he was still conflicted about this, it didn't show at this moment. He wanted this.

"We are in detention," he stated wryly. "I'm going to have to punish you for your tardiness."

I raised an eyebrow. "You don't scare me, Professor." Oh, that was a big lie. His hugeness was incredibly intimidating, and the look of ravenousness in his eyes was enough to make me tremble with fear.

"We'll just have to fix that." He knew that I was afraid. He could see it in my eyes, hear it in my thoughts. He was enjoying it. Enjoying being in control, enjoying taking my arrogance down a notch. I didn't mind, either.

"How do you intend to do that?" I asked innocently.

He leaned into me and growled, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you will never disobey me again."

At the word _fuck _I began to lose hold on any willpower, any strength that I had left. I melted in his arms, a puddle of compliance. I completely let go—let him have his way with me.

He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. I gasped as his shoulder lodged into my stomach, but I didn't complain. He took me into his private quarters, where a large bed awaited us. He set me down and stared into my eyes again. Constantly, he was showing me that _he _was in control of this. I looked away from his gaze, and he growled his approval. I knew it and he knew it—I was his.

He grabbed hold of me and pulled me up to his mouth. He pushed against me, and we entered into a battle of constant give and take. His skillful lips sucked, bit, and moved all over mine. His fingers tangled in my hair and squeezed me tight.

I slid my hands up his chest, over his neck, and onto his face. I rested one hand against his jawline, and then felt his face touching mine, marveling over it. Could this really be happening?

He stopped abruptly and muttered, "Enough kissing." With that, he tore my shirt off me, revealing my black, but otherwise plain, bra. He kissed my neck, but quickly began heading south. Across my chest, on top of my breasts, and just above my bra line. I didn't suppress my moans. He quickly removed his shirt as well, and then quickly unhooked my bra. His experienced hands found my nipples in a heartbeat.

His lips met mine at the same time his fingers tugged on my nipples. I moaned into his mouth, practically ready to come already because of this exquisite feeling. He pulled me close again, kissing me hungrily, his hands exploring my body. All over my back at first, but then down into my pants, and he grasped my butt firmly with both hands. I laughed a little into his mouth as he groaned, feeling how firm my butt was.

He spun me around and pulled me into him. He wrapped his hands around me, grabbing my breasts with both hands and nibbling on my ear with his mouth. Slowly, one hand left my breast and snuck into my pants.

My breathing quickened as he got closer and closer. When his hand slipped into my wet, throbbing folds, I gasped and almost fell to the floor. He quickly found my most sensitive spot and probed it gently. At the same time he was still pinching my nipple, nibbling at my ear, breathing heavily.

My heart raced and my breathing quickened. His fingers slid deeper in, finding my hole and surging in. He explored me, probed me, thrust into me. I began grinding into his fingers, moaning loudly, begging him for more. He slipped another finger in, and then another, and suddenly it hurt—but I couldn't bear for him to stop. I could feel my orgasm building inside me, something I'd never felt before. My knees became wobbly and my breathing suddenly became shallow.

I was just about to finish when he suddenly pulled his fingers away from me and slid them back up my body. He gripped my breast again but didn't move. "Tell me what you want, Chorrie," he rumbled into my ear.

"Professor, please—"

He pinched my nipples, hard. I gasped, and grasped his arms in an attempt to keep myself from melting to the ground. "I want—"

"Louder!"

"I want you to fuck me, Professor!"

He spun me around again and his mouth met mine. His kisses were hard, passionate, _wanting. _I clung to him, afraid that I would soon no longer be able to stand, and he picked me up.

He laid me on the bed and I looked up at him. He wasn't very muscular, but he was trim. His skin was pale but not in a bad way. I was shaking all over, begging him to come touch me again.

He dropped his pants and removed his boxers, socks, and shoes. Slowly he removed mine as well, inspecting me every inch of the way. It was agonizing, the way he looked at me, but at least the hunger in his eyes never faded. "You are exquisite," he murmured.

Oh, that voice. He slowly lowered himself on top of me, kissing my chest and breasts everywhere. I squirmed under him, unable to control myself. I raised my hands to his head, pushing him harder into me, begging him for more. He raised his head against my insisting and chuckled evilly. "I don't think so." He grabbed his wand from his pants and murmured something inaudible. I felt a tightening around my wrists and they were pulled upwards, above my head. An invisible rope tied them above me, and although I struggled, they wouldn't loosen.

The realization that now I could truly not stop him from doing anything terrified me. But of course, I didn't complain, and I didn't tell him to stop.

He kissed each of my nipples lightly, and then bit down on them slightly. As time went on he bit harder and harder, until I began to whimper under him. He released me after he had broken skin, and blood slowly accumulated around my nipples. "You are mine to do as I please," he looked at me, telling me to reaffirm what he'd just said.

"I'm yours," I wept. "Do what you want, Professor. I will do anything."

"Of course you will," he murmured, and then began the agonizing trail of kisses down to my center. He bit softly at the very top of my legs, and I moaned. He spread my legs and then his tongue found it. Found that spot that made me want to scream. He sucked, quickly, never losing it. His fingers entered me, probing me, driving me off the edge.

This felt _impossibly _good. I quivered at his touch, begging him for more. I tensed everywhere, and my shoulders hurt from my arms being held up. I wanted desperately to hold his hair, feel his body, but I could not.

My orgasm came fast and hard. I moaned in pleasure-filled agony. It exploded through me—it was the most amazing feeling. It wracked through my body for many minutes, and rendered me helpless and wanting.

He looked into my eyes, lustful and proud of himself. He climbed onto me again, and kissed me lightly on the lips. He brushed his manhood against my leg and whispered, "Do you see what you do to me?"

I nodded. He kissed my cheeks, my ears, my neck and collarbone. "Please, Professor," I moaned. "I need you. _Now._"

He growled his approval and situated himself on top of me. He was a massive man, but the pressure on my chest was welcome. He looked into my eyes, hungry and aggressive, and then he drove into me.

It was painful—almost as painful as the first time. But my body accepted him, squeezed around him and then expanded just a little. I groaned as the pain sharpened, but then faded as I became acquainted with his huge penis. He moved out, still looking into my eyes, and then thrust quickly back in. He groaned, too, a masculine sound that made my toes curl.

"Oh," I moaned. My body was climbing towards orgasm yet again. He quickened his pace, panting on top of me, breathing on my face. I breathed in the smell of his sweat, the smell of his hair spilling on my face, and that look in his eyes that made me want to scream.

Harder and harder he pushed into me, forcing himself deeper than I thought he could go. "Chorrie," he moaned, as my breath became shallow and shaky once more. I couldn't hold on much longer, and I could tell he couldn't either.

"Take me," I moaned. "Take me, I'm begging you."

He let out a carnal groan and quickened his pace. He slammed into me, letting out small grunts every time he did, claiming me, taking me.

I cried out as my second orgasm rushed through my body. It was _so _magnificent. This time, it lasted longer. He came soon after I did and collapsed on top of my body, his nose nuzzled into my neck.

He rolled off of me, and released me from my bindings. I still didn't move. I just lay there, panting, enjoying this moment of fulfillment.

We lay together, both breathing heavily, both happy. However, after a few moments, I noticed that he was getting hard again. He was still not completely sated. Just the sight of him made me even more wet, made me want more, _again. _

I gingerly sat up, and then crouched over his cock. Quickly and nervously, I buried it inside my mouth. He let out a surprised cry, then it faded into a moan. I had always thought that doing this would be easy, and that it would fit entirely in my mouth—but I was mistaken. A few times it hit the back of my throat, and I gagged against him.

He began to buck against me, and he grabbed my head and pushed me down. I gagged, but he didn't care. He fucked my mouth, moaning loudly as he pulsed in and out. I sucked, doing my best to not cry or throw up, and took pride in the fact that I was making him this horny again.

He abruptly pushed me off of him and climbed on top of me. "I am still in control," was what his eyes said. He grabbed one of my nipples with his mouth, sucking harshly, making me cry out. He inserted a finger into me again, but was not kind this time. He inserted one, then two, then three, and then all four. I cried into the empty air as he expanded his fingers, stretching me, making me want him all the more.

Then his fingers were gone, and he touched my face, kissing me slowly this time. He sucked, gently, on my bottom lip. I could feel his penis on my stomach, and I could feel that the tip was a little wet. His lips left my mouth and he kissed my neck once more, and then positioned himself again.

He went slower this time. Gradually easing himself into me, watching my eyes widen with longing. Slowly he eased in and out, watching me the whole time, probing me with his eyes.

I moaned with frustration. A smile flashed across his face so briefly. He was enjoying torturing me. I knew I was going to orgasm again, but I couldn't quite reach it with this agonizingly slow pace.

I reached around and grabbed his butt, pulling him into me. A flash of pleasure could be seen in his eyes. He pressed against me and obliged me, pounding into me at a much faster pace. His nasally moans were incredible. I listened frantically for them, hoping to engrave them into my mind so that I could always remember them. He almost sounded as if he was in pain, he wanted this so much.

He came once more, and I did too. He rolled off of me, and slid back into his boxers.

I slowly sat up too, and he handed me my clothes. "Be careful not to get in trouble again, Ms. Thompson," was all he said.


	6. Protector

**A/N: Hey everybody. I was a little afraid to post the last chapter… it took me a long time to convince myself that I had what it took to write a good sex scene, and from the few reviews I got I think I did okay. Hopefully I did, and if you think I did, please let me know. I'm a bit of a goody-two-shoes, and that chapter… man, it was painful. But worth it. :) **

**Thanks for sticking with me. This is my favorite chapter so far. I hope you enjoy it. **

I became his obedient servant. My body constantly ached all day, but at night, when he called for me… I never resisted. I couldn't ever turn him away; I wanted it just as much as he did… if not more.

This situation didn't really help my grades. I daydreamed constantly, unable to get him out of my mind. They got so bad that I actually had to _study _for the end of term tests, which bored me profusely.

But my discipline wasn't completely ruined. Before the day of all the tests, I snuck into the library and stayed after-hours. I kept the light off, which was a nuisance, but necessary if I was going to study for as long as I needed to. I managed to rein my thoughts in enough to be able to understand what I was reading… but it was a struggle.

I was beginning to fall asleep in my books, so I got up and walked around a little. I browsed through the shelves, not terribly interested.

Suddenly, there was breath on the back of my neck. I tensed and spun around, and just as I did, he pushed me up against the cold wall. "Out after curfew, Ms. Thompson?" He growled, his eyes narrow and cold.

My body reacted immediately to his voice and touch. My breathing became labored, my pupils dilated, my palms became sweaty.

"Well thanks to _you _I'm probably going to fail my tests tomorrow," I hissed at him, half playing.

"I see no way that that could be my fault," he sneered.

"I can't get you out of my head," I replied, squirming. He didn't budge. "Maybe if you would let me get some sleep, I wouldn't be in this situation."

He pressed harder into me, his mouth less than a centimeter from mine. I had to force myself not to press mine against his. "I _don't _appreciate the _attitude_."

His eyes pierced mine, and I began to feel like I was in danger. I could feel my heart racing. "Should I give you an adjustment?" He growled.

"Yes," I murmured. "Yes."

Quickly, his hand slid into my pants and his fingers found my swollen center. He brushed lightly, teasing, just barely finding that spot.

I groaned, attempting to squeeze myself downward, forcing him to finger me harder. It was to no avail; he had me trapped between him in the wall very securely. He slowly and slightly rubbed my nub, breathing in my ear and laughing a whispery laugh as I moaned in agony. "This will teach you to mouth off, child."

Between the slow punishing movements of his fingers and how he called me "child" made me so ready to come that I was almost in tears. My body was reaching, begging for release, but he didn't allow it. For so long, we stood like this, his fingers inside of me… and me, almost screaming in frustration.

Suddenly his pressure increased as he slipped three fingers into me, pressing hard and fast. I gasped, crying out very loudly. Then he was out, back to barely touching me. I gripped his shoulders so hard with my nails that I was almost positive I drew blood. _"Professor," _I moaned. _"Please. I'm begging you." _

He laughed. "You can beg all you want, Chorrie. I'm in control here."

My legs were shaking terribly. Suddenly they gave way, and I crumpled into him. He supported me with his weight on the wall, but I was utterly spent. My body relaxed into his torturous fingers, as my sex pulsated and groveled for more.

I leaned my head back as a single tear dropped down my cheek. "Fuck," I whispered.

He smiled slightly, enjoying seeing me struggle. "Tell me you won't ever have an attitude with me again."

"Never. I won't ever have an attitude with you, Professor." He increased his pressure ever so slightly, and I moaned into his chest.

"Tell me I'm in control."

"You have complete control of me. I will do anything for you. You could make me do anything you want me to do."

At this, he shoved his fingers forcefully inside of me, and watched with enjoyment as my eyes widened and passion exploded inside of them. An orgasm crashed through my body, stronger than any other I'd ever had. I cried out loudly and with emotion—he covered my mouth so that no one would hear.

When my orgasm finally ebbed away, he yanked my pants down, and his were down a second later. Without delaying, he pushed me up against the wall, I wrapped my legs around him, and he was inside of me.

I could feel by body already climbing to another orgasm. It amazed me how my body could never tire of him, how I always wanted more.

He pounded into me relentlessly, a dangerous look in his eye. I bucked in unison with him, so hungry for more of him. He nibbled at my neck, my ear, my jaw. I clawed his back and cried out with every thrust.

He removed me from the wall and lay me across a library desk. I clung onto the edges as he drove into me, groaning that nasally groan, fucking me harder than he had before. The feeling couldn't be described. I looked up at this man with an insatiable sexual appetite, with passion in his eyes, and it was all I could do not to cry with pleasure.

His orgasm was a long one. He moaned so loudly, clutching the sides of my hips, bending over my body with pleasure. I came, too, moaning with him. Even after mine was finished, I could feel his member pulsating within my body. I watched as he clung to me, and felt pride in the fact that I had done this.

He pulled me off from the table and kissed me roughly on the lips. "Get back to your studying, Ms. Thompson." With that, he pulled his pants back on and departed, as I crumpled to the floor… utterly spent.

**xxxxxxxxx**

The first few tests went well. After that, things went fairly good… until Potions. My eyelids were drooping considerably, and as soon as the tests were passed out… _I _passed out.

I slept through the entire class. Katrina woke me at the end, a worried expression on her face. "You slept through the entire test!" She exclaimed. "I wish I could have woken you, but you know we can't talk…"

I sighed with anger. "I know. It's okay." I was angry at myself for falling asleep… but there was nothing I could do about it now. Who knew how Professor Snape would react to this.

**xxxxxxxx**

It was after eleven before I got the familiar paper airplane from Professor Snape requesting my presence in his classroom. Usually, it did not take him so long to beckon me.

I snuck out of my dormitory with ease and made my way to the Potions classroom. When I opened the door, prepared for him to crash into me, I caught sight of him standing and looking out the window.

I approached him, still on edge. He did not turn and look at me, but I knew that he knew I was there. I stood beside him, feeling the heat between us. I could tell that something was wrong, but I was not naïve enough to think that he would confide in me.

"You fell asleep during my exam," he said softly.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to tell how angry he was.

He turned to look at me. His eyes were unusually soft, and he reached up and touched his hand to my face. "I'm afraid I may be pushing you too hard, Chorrie."

I shook my head. "No, it's me. I've just been… thinking, too much… I can do better. I _will_." I knew my eyes were clouded with fear, and I could feel him looking into my mind, and I knew that he saw that I was terrified he would leave me.

"I'm not going to abandon you, child. I enjoy your company too much."

Relief flooded my face, and he kissed me lightly. "Do I ever make you feel like your father did?"

I was surprised to find that he cared. I could see the pain on his face… he was offended that I was surprised. "No," I answered honestly. "My father inflicted pain for his own personal gain."

His eyes searched mine. "In what ways did he abuse you?"

"Physically and mentally."

He nodded grimly, but I could tell he was relieved that I had not been sexually abused. "I have seen all of your scars," he murmured, pushing up my shirt slightly to reveal several long slash marks. "They are horrific." Again his hand found my face. "I will never let anyone hurt you like that again." His voice was strong and full of rage. "If that bastard hadn't killed himself, I would have finished him off." The sharpness of this statement made me flinch slightly.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I turned away in embarrassment. No one had ever cared for me enough to protect me. The one man who was supposed to protect me abused that greatly, when I had been youngest and weakest. I'd never known the definition of the word _safe_, and yet standing next to this terrifying man… I felt it. I knew what it felt like to be safe, and that meant so much more than sex to me. I felt my heart swell in my chest. I was not stupid enough to think that he loved me, and I was not _in_ love with him, but I did love him for how he made me feel. For giving me that feeling that no one else had provided to me before.

I looked into his eyes and could see that he heard all of what I had just thought. As the tears fell, he wiped them away, and then he kissed me very gently. His mouth moved patiently against mine, asking but not taking. I responded to him, still crying, but melting at his touch.

He wrapped his hands around me and pulled me in. The strength in this hug wasn't crushing, it was gentle, secure. I ran my fingers through his hair and clung to him, savoring in the protection I felt.

The connection between us was much more than lustful. It caught me off guard, leaving me wobbly and uncertain. I knew that he was feeling out of his element as well, but we both embraced it, gleefully reaching for feelings that neither of us had ever felt.

We made our way to his bedroom. He laid me softly on the bed, and peeled off his clothes. I did the same for mine. He placed gentle kisses on my neck, next to my eyes, the tip of my nose, and on my chest. When he reached my breasts he sucked lightly, drawing out the pleasure, helping me to enjoy it.

I held onto him, blissfully unaware of the world around me. I felt amazingly exposed. It was an incredible feeling that I'd never felt before. He kissed my stomach, down my hips, and finally down into my clit. He sucked tenderly, allowing me to build up to my orgasm quickly. I cried more and more, embarrassed at my emotion but embracing them as best I could.

He sucked on my spot, and I moaned with pleasure. When I came, he kissed the inside of my legs, and trailed his kisses back up to my breasts. He nibbled on my nipples a few times, and then pulled himself back up to face me. I opened my eyes wide and drank in his face, breathless from the man that was on top of me. I so desperately wanted this to last for as long as it could.

He kissed my lips again, easing into it, moving gently against me. I sucked on his lower lip, and grasped the back of his head with my hands. As we were kissing, he entered me, and I exhaled sharply.

His thrusts were not violent or demanding. He took only what I was willing to give, and that was enough.

We rocked in unison, both breathing heavily. His eyes met mine and we kept eye contact. He saw the adoration in my eyes, and I saw the acceptance and possessiveness in his. His lips brushed against my neck as he rocked into me. We both moaned softly.

It was beautiful. It wasn't fucking—it was making love. So much different than just having sex… and I was totally fine with just having sex. But this… this was remarkably satisfying. We came together, and it was exquisite. He gasped into my mouth, my eyes practically rolled into the back of my head.

He rolled over onto his bed, and for the first time, I curled up against him. We both drifted into a satisfied sleep.

I knew that tomorrow, things would be back to normal. But as for tonight… he held me.


	7. Assaulted

**AN: for those of you who actually read the story, you're lucky tonight: two new chapters! **

**Things get a little kinkier in this chapter… :)**

I entered the Great Hall, mind reeling. I saw him up at the Head Table, and immediately his eyes met mine. _If you can hear me, come with me,_ I whispered in my head. Oh, I needed him, and I needed him _now._

I departed just as quickly as I had come to the room, and I found an empty classroom. The desks were dusty and abandoned; I knew no one would find us here.

Moments after I had sat down on one of them, he slid into the room. "Ms. Thompson, what could possibly require my presence this urgently?"

"I passed my exams," I told him breathlessly.

His eyes narrowed. "You think I care about such a trivial—"

"I passed _potions,_" I said, cutting him off.

He was about to snap again and then his mouth opened into a small _oh. _Then he smiled, that deliciously sexy, mischievous smile. "Congratulations," he said wryly.

"This is no surprise to you!"

"I assure you that it is," the statement was sarcastic.

"Why did you do this for me, Professor?" I asked curiously.

His eyes widened in a way that was almost playful. "Well, Ms. Thompson, it seems that there are certain _perks _to fucking your teacher."

Oh, that word. It made my toes curl and my stomach tie itself into knots. Elation filled me from my toes to my ears. Without thinking, I gently backed him into the wall of the classroom. He looked into my eyes, my eyes that were dancing with mischief and gratefulness, and his eyes became clouded with lust.

I crouched down, unzipped his zipper, and pulled him quickly out. He was already incredibly hard, and I moaned in appreciation. With little hesitation, I forced myself onto his bulging member, sucking hard.

He let out a small whimper that encouraged me to continue. I circled him with my tongue, teasing the head, tasting his pre-come. He grabbed the back of my head and pulled my hair to where it was just the smallest big painful.

I used my hands to reach back and fondle his ball sack—he groaned loudly at this too. I was not practiced in this, but I could tell that I was good at it. I sucked him harder and harder until he exploded into my mouth and moaned into the open air of the classroom. I loved that incredible moan. It was masculine, unique, and so sensual.

He pulled me up to him as I swallowed all of his liquid and kissed me harshly. His hands found the button to my pants and quickly undid them. They fell to the ground and he removed his as well. He was in me faster than I thought possible. Already, he was hard again. He pounded into me, moaning. He reached up through my uniform and squeezed my nipples painfully. I cried out in anguish, but I didn't want him to stop.

I built up to my orgasm, but he came too quickly. He removed himself and began to enter me with his fingers, but I stopped him. "Professor—don't worry about me. Do what you want with me… I am ready and willing to be used in any way you wish."

His eyes filled to the brim with hunger. "You will regret saying that, Ms. Thompson."

I laughed lightly. "I'd like to see you _make me _regret saying that."

He grinned his approval at my words and growled: "Gladly."

At that, he turned me over and bent me over the table. I grasped the edge of the desk as fear crept through my body. I hadn't been expecting this. _Of course this would be what he wants, _I thought. _He can have it. He can have anything._

He drew his wand and once again cast restraints onto my wrists. I felt as if my hands had been glued to the table—of course, my struggles were to no avail. He kissed my fleshy ass and nibbled gently. "This is going to hurt. I don't want you struggling."

Terror gripped my stomach, but I will admit… excitement was there, too. He conjured up a bottle of lube and wetted me down. I squeaked slightly as his fingers entered the hole that he'd never touched before.

He removed his fingers and then his manhood was at my entry. "Brace yourself, child," he whispered, and then he thrust into me.

I screamed as I felt him ripping into my flesh. The pain was almost unbearable—tears instantly sprang to my eyes and flooded my cheeks. "No!" I shouted. I begged him to stop, but he was deaf to my pleas. I fought against the restraints as he pounded into me, crying out with pleasure, gripping my hips.

Eventually I relaxed my body, giving in to his commanding strength. My hands hurt from fighting against the spell, and I allowed myself to collapse underneath him. More than ever, I felt that he was in total control. That aspect of it made me unbearable horny—I loved that I was at his mercy.

His hands parted my cheeks even farther, stretching me to my limit. He explored me, grabbing handfuls of my ass—obviously enjoying himself. I succumbed to him, willing to admit that he could have anything that he wanted. The desk was rubbing against my ribs, and I hurt _everywhere_, but still, my core ached for him. I wanted his touch so badly. Finally, he came inside me, and pulled himself out.

I sighed in relief, and he kissed my shoulder. I felt utterly exposed, laying on my stomach with my butt completely in his sight. He could do literally anything to me and I would have no way to fight him off. He cupped my butt cheeks with his hands, grabbing and smacking.

What started as playful slaps quickly became harsher. He smacked me with his open palm, and watched as I shrieked underneath his powerful hands. "Professor," I moaned. "It hurts."

He smacked me, harder. "Don't speak!" he hissed. Another smack followed, and then a series of quicker slaps. My butt stung, as did the tears in my eyes. My words gathered in my throat but I choked on them, afraid to speak.

Finally, he stopped. I knew that I must be red and raw. Then he slid his hands up my body and again found my breasts under my shirt. He fondled them with ease, pinching at my nipples, making me moan.

Soon my body was able to forget the pain on my bum and focus on… other feelings. I was already wet from the beating I was getting, but soon I was nearly dripping from his touch.

His hands left my breasts and he spread my legs. He found the _right _hole and his fingers easily slipped in. He probed slowly, but didn't leave me in agony for long. He thrust three fingers into me, and finger-fucked me until I was whimpering and clinging to an orgasm that threatened to explode at any second.

He withdrew his fingers and thrust his member into me, moaning at the feeling that never got old. He pounded into me, clinging to my body, whispering my name. "Yell, Chorrie! Beg for me!"

"Professor!" I cried. "Harder, Professor! _Please!" _A carnal whimper escaped from my mouth as I came, and he did as well. Then he pulled away from me, admired me from behind for a short amount of time, and then released my bindings. I crumpled, and he pulled me up, helping me into my clothes.

I still hurt.

He cupped my chin and lightly kissed me on the lips. "You're welcome for passing you," he murmured with obvious satisfaction. And then he exited the classroom, leaving me exhausted.

**xxxxxxxx **

Christmas break came around, and everyone departed for the holiday. Last Christmas I went and stayed with Katrina, and this year she invited me to do the same.

We chatted all the way to London, and then her father picked us up. Her two older brothers were with him. Landon and Carlisle, two devastatingly handsome boys who had always been the subject of my daydreams during the summers. Both were charming, kind, and very intelligent wizards, but they were not as powerful or seductive as Professor Snape.

"Hey, Sis," Landon said, throwing his arm around me. I'd been his "sis" since I'd met him during my first year, his fourth year. Katrina's charming family had easily adopted me as their own. "How's your semester been? Failed a class yet?"

"Of course not," I replied, rolling my eyes. "You failed enough classes for the both of us."

He laughed crossly. "I did no such thing."

He didn't. However, he was incredibly fun to mess around with. As I walked with Landon, his arm around me, I couldn't help but notice that Carlisle was admiring the curves that I was not hiding this evening. The young, innocent Chorrie that they had known was gone… I knew that I had a nice body, and I bought clothes that actually _fit _me now.

It was a strange feeling, knowing that his eyes were on my body. But I could see his shaggy brunette hair out of the corner of my eyes, and from years of making eye contact with him I knew that he had dark, beautiful blue eyes… so I didn't mind that he was staring. He was no Severus Snape, but he had a handsome charm of his own. What girl doesn't like a little attention?

We apparated to Katrina's house, and her mother was already there with dinner ready. She embraced Katrina, exclaiming how glad she was that her daughter was home, and then did the same to me. I breathed in her scent—vanilla and parsley, and relished in her motherly presence. Katrina's mother was an angel, just like mine had been.

"I was so sorry to hear about your father, sweetheart," she said softly.

Carlisle passed as she said this and he muttered, "Bastard."

A smile played at my lips, but Chloe, Katrina's mother, slapped him with the back of her hand. "You will not use that language in my house, young man!"

"Sorry, mum," he mumbled, but his eyes caught mine, and he winked.

"You will tell us if you ever need anything, right?" she asked, searching my eyes with her brown ones.

"Of course, thank you," I replied.

She hugged me again, and I smiled at her thoughtfulness. Then, we sat down and all began to dig into our meals. They chatted happily amongst themselves, and I remained quiet, soaking in this family that loved me.

**xxxxxxxxx**

Two days later, Katrina, Carlisle, Landon and I traveled to a nearby city to sight-see and shop. Of course they had seen this area many times, but I hadn't, and really we were just all looking for something to do together.

Landon and Carlisle were typical boys—always sizing each other up, trying to one up each other in everything that they did. Landon was the more muscular of the two, so he could lift more, throw farther, do more that involved strength. But Carlisle was smarter, more agile, could sneak away or outmaneuver Landon simply because of his wit. They did everything in fun, always making Katrina and I laugh. Once, Landon pushed Carlisle into me, and Carlisle touched my arm gently. His blue eyes gazed into mine and he asked, "Are you okay? I'm sorry, my brother is a blundering idiot."

"I'm fine," I replied, grinning.

He returned my grin. His smile was crooked and adorable. I tried to ignore the butterflies in my stomach from the way that he looked at me. I had no intentions of betraying professor Snape, but it was nice, for once, to be looked at in a way that was honest and kind. Carlisle's eyes were not full of lust, or despair, or anger—they were just light and happy. He made me want to dance or play a board game, and that was different.

I didn't dwell on it. Soon I would be back to the castle, back with the teacher that I so yearned for. Just the thought of him made me ready to abandon this family _now _and rush back to that man.

A few times during the day, Carlisle would brush against me. Accident or not, I could tell it effected him. I found myself smiling at his happiness.

They mulled around a shop, and I excused myself to find a restroom. We were in a muggle shopping mall, and the bathrooms were quite a distance away. It frustrated me that I could not apparate.

I was turned away from the door of the bathroom, washing my hands in the sink, when I heard it lock behind me. Hadn't I locked it in the first place?

I swung around, and he pushed me roughly up against the wall. His eyes were full of jealous rage. He ripped off my clothes and entered me at a speed that I couldn't believe.

I didn't have time to prepare, I was dry and unready. He stretched my unwilling entrance, tearing me apart. I cried out with pain and dug my nails into his back. He bit just above my left breast, pulling at my skin so harshly that I feared he would tear it off. His black hair brushed against my face. I screamed through the pain of this assault.

Thankfully, my body was quick to react. I became slick within a minute of him entering me, and the pain ebbed away as he pumped into my wetness. I trembled under his touch, terrified of this strong man that controlled my entire body.

I kept quiet the whole time, afraid of what he would do to me if I moved or made a sound. He finally released my skin above my breast. The flesh was patchy and blood-red. It was a hickey—and it was huge. He dropped me to the floor, not caring enough to support me. He bent over, his black eyes ablaze with a fire that was not of the good kind. "Don't forget whom you belong to," he growled, and then he left me in a painful pile on the floor.

**xxxxxxxxx**

The next morning I woke to Katrina staring at me. I blinked up at her, confused by her horrified expression. I searched for the spot that she was looking at, and realized that my night shirt had drifted downwards on my body, leaving the huge hickey exposed.

"Chorrie, what _is _that?"

I blushed profusely. "It's—eh—it's just a bruise, Katrina."

She glared at me. "I may have been born at night, but I was not born _last _night! That's a hickey, isn't it? Chorrie, that's not just a hickey… that's _terrible… _I know that you didn't want that…" Her voice trailed away as she read the horror on my face.

Horror that told her she was right.

How could I ever explain this? 


	8. Confliction

**AN: I am not a harsh, lust-filled person. This story makes me seem like I am. I need to add some light, to make myself feel better. Don't worry, it won't stay as light as this chapter is.**

If you like what Carlisle brings to the story, let me know. If you hate what he brings, let me know that, too. I will adjust according to your reactions.

**All the more reason to review! :D**

My body and mind ached. I was tired of keeping this secret. I knew that I would regret telling her. I certainly did not want to let Professor Snape go, I didn't want to stop sleeping with him, but the emotional toll from being around him was gripping my heart. Katrina was there, my wonderful friend, who I was sure would not judge me.

"It's complicated," I told her.

"Has someone been abusing you?" She asked me, her eyes filled with horror.

"No, nothing like that," I assured her. This was difficult. I wasn't sure if I was ready to tell her this. What if she thought I was disgusting? What if she told her parents? They would _definitely _think I'm disgusting.

"Tell me, Chor. Please. I promise I won't judge you."

"I know."

We sat in silence as she waited for me to spill. She was my best friend! I used to tell her everything. Why did it stop? My heart ached for the innocent girl that I once was. "I've… had a crush on Professor Snape, since I can remember."

Her eyebrows arched in confusion. Surely a teacher wasn't involved in this?

"Well… one night… he became interested in me, too."

Her eyes widened. "That bastard!" The word was harsh on her lips. "He did this to you? Has he raped you? Chorrie, why didn't you tell me!"

I shook my head quickly. "He didn't rape me! It was… it was consensual. I wanted it."

It was a mark of our friendship that she neither made any expression, nor did she move away. "You wanted _that_?" she whispered, gesturing towards my chest.

"No…" I admitted. "He sort of, attacked me out of the blue yesterday…"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she wept for me. I loved this girl for caring so much. "Katrina, seriously, I'm okay."

"No," she whimpered. "You aren't okay. I know you think this is _okay_, but how do you think this is going to end? Do you love him?"

I searched my heart for the answer to her question. No, I didn't. I yearned for him in a way that was instinctual. My body ached to be around him, but I had such a small personal connection to him that I could not love him. "No."

"He's taking advantage of you. I _know _you can't see that, but he _is._"

A small part of me knew that. But a big part of me liked it. "I'm handling it," I said after a while.

"It looks like it," she mumbled, and I scowled at her a little. "I don't know what to do about this," she whispered. "I know this is wrong even if you don't, but I don't know how to handle it. I'm going to have to tell someone."

"No!" I exclaimed.

"Chorrie, you can survive without him!"

"I know I can," I whispered harshly. It was true—I knew that I would move on from him if I had to. But that wasn't a problem.

"Then this has to happen! I have to tell!" She watched as terror filled my eyes, and I saw her try to interpret what I was feeling. I saw as it dawned on her and then she murmured, "You're afraid he's going to kill you, aren't you?"

My voice caught in my throat. She was right on target. If she turned him in… he would hear about it before any authorities reached him. He would come find me. What would he do to me?

The darkness that I'd been living in was catching up to me. At Hogwarts, when all I knew was he, it seemed right. It seemed okay. But here, with this beautiful family, where love was everywhere… I felt uneasy. Especially after he attacked me yesterday, I began to feel detached from him.

I felt numb inside. Suddenly I had no idea what to do. "I trust you," I whispered to her. It was true. If I had to choose between her and Snape, I'd choose her, every time.

She took my hand and led me downstairs. Her mother, Carlisle, and her father were in the living room chatting animatedly about her father's chocolate frog card collection. They saw immediately that something was wrong, and their chatter stopped.

I didn't look at any of them. I found a spot on the floor and I stared at it. Katrina told them everything that I had told her. I felt ashamed, and dirtier than after Mitchell had violated me.

There was a short silence after Katrina was done talking. I felt brave enough to quickly glance at the three others in the room. Katrina's father was scratching his head, but his face was almost expressionless. Chloe's face was filled with horror and sadness for her surrogate daughter. Carlisle was looking in the opposite direction, his hands balled into fists.

Then Chloe got up and reached out for me. She embraced me, crying, and her tears led to mine. She wrapped me in her arms and rocked me back and forth. I'd been hugged like this before, but this was not dark. This did not lead to other things… it was a response from someone who loved me. An honest, loving response. I accepted it and bawled into her shoulder.

Her father got up and joined the hug, and so did Katrina. Carlisle stood, and he placed a hand on my shoulder, and then he left the room.

When we all separated, Chloe wiped the tears from my eyes and said, "My husband and I need to talk about what to do. We will let you know before we take any action."

"Can I stay?" Katrina asked.

Her parents nodded, and I understood myself to be excused. I didn't really want to be part of the conversation anyway. I went to find Carlisle.

He was outside, kicking around rocks. I approached him slowly, not sure of what I would see in his face.

He looked at me. His expression was stony and unreadable. I tried to compose myself, and stuttered frailly, "I'm s-sorry."

"What would you possibly be sorry for?" He whispered, his calm eyes resting on mine. "Chorrie, you've done nothing wrong! We all have our childish fantasies… but there's a reason they don't usually unfold in real life. They're not _good_."

I could understand that. I nodded feebly.

He sat down in the grass, and I sat beside him. He placed a gentle hand on my knee. Such a safe area. So unexpected and undemanding.

"You are worth so much more than this," he murmured.

I faced him and asked, "What do you mean?"

"You've had these men in your life who have controlled you, ridiculed you, used you in every way… and you allow it to happen. You are incredibly gracious about it. You think it's your fault, which is _stupid_, but it's… you. You've recovered from so much more than I have. I could only hope to be as amazing as you are some day."

My eyes filled with tears. "You don't know how screwed up I am."

"What are you feeling right now? In your stomach, what's it telling you?"

I paused, evaluating. "So many things… I'm full of uncertainty. Guilt. Fear… regret. Anger. Mostly guilt…"

"Then you are _not _screwed up. We all get caught up in things that are terrible. But your remorse shows that you are not a bad person. _He _is the bad person, Chor. He took advantage of you, toyed with your emotions, turned you into a person that you aren't." I agreed with that. Although my lust was strong—it did not define me. The person that I'd been for many months was someone who was defined by lust.

He reached up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "Can I tell you something?" he asked breathlessly. "This might be a bad time for it. But can I?" His eyes were teary and pleading. They were beautiful. Honest. Caring. They made me feel even guiltier for the terrible person that I was.

"Of course you can," I murmured.

"I have been… in love with you, for as long as I can remember." He paused, looking into my eyes. It was different, having someone look at me as they expressed their affection for me. He was not ashamed of love. My stomach did a flip as his eyes studied mine. It was in a way that was caring, not in a pressing, demanding way. "Maybe since four summers ago, when you cursed Landon's feet and made them grow and grow and grow. Or maybe since you were eleven and I was fourteen, and you punched me in the stomach for spitting on Katrina's food. Or maybe when you were twelve, and I was fifteen… and Katrina dared you to kiss me, and you did."

I gazed at him in awe as he spilled his heart out to me. All this time and I had never noticed? The way he looked at me was so pure. It made me want to be a better person—be this person that he thought that I was.

"Chorrie, I can protect you. You can leave him and we can go into hiding until he moves on. I would do anything for you Chorrie, I just ask—I just plead that you would choose me. Don't let him hurt you anymore."

He gave me such an impossible decision. I could tell that he didn't expect an answer now. He allowed me to lay my head in his lap, and he gently stoked my hair. He bent down and kissed the top of my head, and we sat there, for a very long time. I had never felt more content in my life.

When I thought back to my life at Hogwarts, the Potions master that I so lusted for… all I wanted was him back. All I wanted was to return to the castle, to be his slave for the rest of my being. But Katrina had a valid question: how was this going to end? When I was done with my schooling, would Snape toss me to the side?

Carlisle was handsome. He was brilliant, and kind, and he motivated me to be a better person. But I didn't know if I was good enough for him. I didn't know if I could give up Professor Snape for him, either.

How could I choose? My body begged for Professor Snape, but my heart sought someone like Carlisle. I knew that I had lived a life of brokenness, and that's all I would ever find with Professor Snape. But was it even possible to fix me?

_How can I choose? _


	9. Your Decision

**AN:  
Well, I need to wrap this up because next week I'll be going to college and I really need to start regulating my sleeping schedule, haha. Thanks for the few of you who actually reviewed… I think this story is pretty good so I'm glad I have a few others who agree. Thanks especially to "hexe" whoever you are. :)**

**I only got on opinion on which way I should go—Snape or Carlisle. And I can't choose between them, because I know Carlisle is the right choice… but Snape is oh so sexy. So, I'm writing both! It's up to you to choose. :)**

**If you want her to be with Professor Snape, continue on to chapter 10. This chapter and ending will not really correspond to the events in the books, but Snape will be his typical self… so that's good.**

If you want her to be with Carlisle, continue to chapter 11. This choice will correspond with the events in the books.

Thank you for reading… and please continue to review even though it's finished!  


**xoxo **


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: So you choose sex over love, hm? Alright, I won't judge…**

That evening, when everyone fell asleep, I snuck into their bedrooms. One by one, I whispered _obliviate_, and all the damage was undone.

Carlisle was the hardest. Although I was curious as to what life would be like with him, I couldn't give up my life with Professor Snape. It was too good. None of them awoke; blissfully unaware of what was happening.

I took the train back to Hogwarts and sent an owl, telling Professor Snape to expect me. A thrill coursed through me as I thought of my return… I was sure he'd be happy to see me.

I wrung my hands together, deep in thought throughout the whole train ride. Katrina wouldn't remember me, but maybe that was for the better. I didn't know what would become of me after I graduated… would I go where Professor Snape went? Would he allow that? If that's what happened, then Katrina would definitely not fit into my life. I would always be under the radar, alone except for my Professor.

The burning sensation in my stomach told me that I was okay with that.

When I entered the castle, all was still and quiet. There was still another week left of Christmas vacation and all the students were at home. Many of the teachers were away as well—Professor Snape had no family, so he remained here.

With me.

I practically ran to his classroom. My body ached… It had been so long! Only five days, but it felt like an eternity. I was more than eager to be in his arms again.

When I entered, he was bent over a potion, examining a very worn textbook. "This can't be right," I heard him murmur. I slipped out of my robe silently, then out of my pants, then my shirt. I had finally bought some suitable undergarments—a lacy, nearly transparent pink bra, and skimpy underwear… a thong. The first I'd ever worn.

I snuck up behind him and somehow managed to not be heard. I was trying incredibly hard not to think, and when I did have a thought, I whispered it in the recesses of my mind so quietly that he didn't pick up on it. I laid myself across his mahogany desk, and then I waited for him to turn around.

He scribbled in his textbook for too long. Just looking at him crouched over, his firm butt in my face, made me horny. So I allowed my mind to wander. I allowed myself to think of him touching me.

He didn't notice for maybe a minute. Then he froze, and slowly turned around.

I could tell he was about to make a smart comment by the look on his face, but then when he saw me, he froze. I watched as his eyes first examined my bra and then slowly trailed downwards to my underwear, and then to my long, slender legs, and finally back up to my face.

"You are a fuckable little creature, aren't you?" he growled.

I grinned with mischief. "What ever do you mean?" I asked.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, stroking slowly with his thumb. I closed my eyes, absorbing the feeling of his skin on my skin. He slipped his thumb under my bra strap and then travelled downward to the front of my bra. He trailed across the edge with his thumb, but never reached in far enough to touch my nipple. I made no sound, just enjoyed silently. Then he slid his hand down the side of my body, enjoying the curve as his hand went upward to my hip. Then he grasped the panties and ripped them from my body. I gasped as the string of the thong violated me and then snapped.

He grinned. "I like you better without clothes on." And he pulled me up.

I went easily into his arms, aroused, yet more at ease than I would have thought possible. This was becoming a routine, but not in the way that it was becoming boring. He was becoming more safe, more _mine_. How was that possible?

The question wasn't important, I thought as he stroked my breasts. What mattered right now was how he made me feel.

He carried me to his bedroom, a very familiar place. He laid me on his bed and began to kiss down my body. I closed my eyes and gave myself over to him, like I had so many times before. _I made the right choice, _I thought with confidence. I both tensed and relaxed as he brushed his mouth against my belly, my hips, my legs, and finally intimately right in between my legs.

His tongue was as warm and sure as ever, stroking me with just the right amount of pressure to make me catch my breath. I moaned louder and louder every second. He moved slowly, explored thoroughly, circling and licking and pressing, pausing when I wanted to scream, and then went just a little faster.

He had sex with me like a man who enjoyed what he was doing, and God, it was incredible. This wasn't something I could ever get used to. He seemed better and better each time… how could I have ever doubted this?

Pleasure shot through me. As he continued the easy pressure, I curled my toes and stretched out my fingers.

More, I thought through a veil of passion. I needed _more. _But he was in no hurry to finish things up. He continued to tease me, punishing me for doubting him, making me want him—and only him. My muscles tensed in anticipation of an orgasm that still seemed so far away. I reached for my release, straining, wanting, but it wasn't there yet.

On and on this went, driving me crazy in the best way possible. Ribbons of pleasure wove there way though my body. My skin was tight and sensitive. Inch by inch I got closer and closer until I was ready to explode at any second.

Finally, he clamped down on that sensitive nub and sucked generously. My orgasm exploded through me with incredible intensity. I cried out in pleasure and he touched me gently until every ounce of pleasure had left my body.

I felt like I couldn't ever move again, but of course, he wasn't anywhere close to finished.

He sucked gently at my breasts for a few more seconds, and then he entered me quickly, filling me, stretching me, completing me. Then he slipped his fingers into her folds and rubbed gently as he rocked into me.

This new… _position _was surprisingly erotic. I could feel another orgasm begin to build seconds after my first had left me. I found myself eager for what he was doing. He hardly moved anything but his finger at all, but there was just enough friction to leave me clinging on the edge. He pulsed into me just slightly, teasing me.

When he finally thrust into me, I thrust into him, and he filled me more than enough. We greeted each other with hunger, eagerness, and desire. We both wanted _all _of the other.

He took me hard and fast, pushing into me with an intensity that made my nerve endings want to sigh. The sensation of being taken was nearly as exciting as it was arousing. I wrapped my legs around his hips in that familiar position, pulling him closer, holding him in place.

Pressure built inside of me again. I knew that another release was incredibly close. He looked deeply into my eyes and growled, "You're mine. You will always be mine."

"Yes," I breathed, and I knew with every ounce of my being that that was true. As long as he would have me, I would be his.

This pace had me reaching for more. "Professor, _fuck me. _I've been away from you for too long, take me again, _please."_

He obliged, thrusting into me with a force that made me gasp for breath. He pounded into me, so fast, so hard, and I cried out with pleasure at the incredible sensation. Sweat dripped from his body as he clutched me, and I shook under him. He was relentlessly hungry, and I ached for his touch. We made a good pair.

He came quickly and forcefully, and I exploded soon after. He collapsed on top of me, heaving his passion. I didn't move under him, only breathed heavily.

When he did pull out and roll onto the bed, he leaned over me and said, "As long as you are faithful to me, I will protect you. I will not leave you, I will not hurt you, and you will be completely mine. Is that what you want?" His eyes were intense, probing, and possibly… hoping.

"Yes," I whispered, quivering.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

At dinner, all the remaining students and staff ate at one table. There were only about fifty of us, and plenty of food to go around. I sat by Professor Snape, arriving conveniently late so that the seat next to him was the only one left. Like anyone would want to sit next to him.

He did not talk to the others. There were few teachers left: Professor Dumbledore, Professor Flitwick, and of course, Filch. Most of the remaining students were 7th years.

I sat in silence, also. Mainly because I was too fixated on the force of sexual tension radiating between myself and Professor Snape. At times I would brush against him while reaching some food, and I would nearly choke on whatever I was chewing.

Halfway through desert, I was nodding to Professor Dumbledore about something, and Snape grabbed my knee. At this point I was taking a drink, and I spit it out all over my plate. He did not remove his hand. Several of the other students looked at me and I said, "Choked a little, sorry." I went back to my food, suddenly extremely interested in the peas on my plate. I attempted to put a few in my mouth as his hand travelled up my leg.

I was wearing a skirt. At this moment I was half thrilled that I had worn a skirt, and half mortified. His fingers easily slipped under my panties and into my folds.

I was immediately wet and willing. I spread my legs just the slightest bit. I didn't attempt to eat any more food, and I didn't look at anyone else, as I was sure that my face was turning bright read. He continue to eat using his other hand, staring straight ahead—stone faced.

He stroked gently, entering my hole slightly, teasing me. And then he slid three fingers in, and _left them there. _I ached and clamped around his fingers, but he did not move them at all for the rest of the meal. It was agonizing—more painful than anything he'd ever put me through. I became more and more wet, and I couldn't do anything about it. His hand was just between my legs, torturing me, for the last twenty minutes of dinner.

He was going to get it later.

**xxxxxxxxx**

School ended too quickly. Katrina did not return to Hogwarts—I never found out what became of her or her family. I felt extremely guilty—in a way it felt like I had murdered them, but I tried not to dwell on it too much.

Professor Snape had said nothing about what would be happening to our relationship when school ended. I was too afraid to ask. But since he'd said nothing about it, I assumed that meant that it was over.

I packed up my bags quickly, dressed in my normal clothes, and joined the mob of students headed for the Hogwarts express. As we walked the halls, I checked down each one to see if he came running to stop me from leaving… but he did not.

We boarded the Hogwarts express, and I sat alone in a compartment. I looked out the window, _begging _myself not to cry. I had no life to return to, no plans for the future, and no boyfriend. Is that what he was? A boyfriend? I think some would call it a _fuck buddy. _I tried not to think of it that way. The relationship had mostly been based on sex, but during the few nights when he'd been gentle and caring to me, we had connected. That connection hadn't faded—at least, I thought it hadn't. 

I couldn't help it… a few tears fell. In many ways, I _had _loved him. Knowing that I may never see him again left me raw and hollow inside.

Suddenly there was a tap on my window. I turned to find an owl hovering outside, scratching with its claws. I pulled the window down and it dropped a small piece of parchment inside.

There was a typed address on it, and one handwritten line: _I will expect you to have moved in completely in two days' time. –SS _

I couldn't help the huge grin that spread across my face.

**xxxxxxxxx **

_Seven years later_

I set the last of dinner on the table and then yelled: "Dinner's ready!"

Snape was there in an instant, and he leaned me over the counter and kissed me roughly on the mouth. He was a man of few words—not that I needed any words.

He sat in his usual place, and I sat. He began to eat, but I waited patiently. After a few minutes I said with exasperation: "I _know _she heard me."

I stood from the table and walked up the stairs. Family pictures lined the stairway. Although I had urged him to wear _anything _other than black, he had not. I had worn purple, and she had worn pink. The result was an extremely girly family picture collection, one that Snape avoided looking at at all costs.

I rounded a corner and peered into the room. A black-haired, blue-eyed girl peered up at me and knocked over her cauldron by accident. Luckily it was only full of play-dough, so I didn't need to yell. "Desdemona, I _know _you heard me say that dinner was ready."

"I'm not hungry," she whimpered.

"I don't care. Come down and sit with us." I reached out for her, and she stood and leapt into my arms. As she laid her head on my shoulder, my heart just about exploded with love and affection for this little girl. She had her daddy's complexion and hair color, my fingers, toes, and eye color—she was what I had always dreamed of having, next to Snape, of course.

We walked downstairs and I sat her in her chair. Snape was half way through his plate. I sat down, too, and began filling my plate. Desdemona took a little of everything except the green beans.

"Eat some green beans," Snape growled at her.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. "I no like those, though," she said, smiling.

He gave her a pointed look and she took two green beans. A tiny, almost unnoticeable grin flickered across his face, and then he returned to his plate, allowing her to take only the two green beans.

Five years ago when I'd told him that I was pregnant, I expected him to freak out. I expected him to tell me to abort the baby—but I wouldn't have ever done that. Before she was ever born I knew she'd be a beautiful creature, the reflection of a man who I had loved since I was eleven. However, he had been remarkable calm about it. He had the attitude that "these things happen" and although that wasn't the best reaction, it most definitely wasn't the worst.

Five years later, he was completely wrapped around her finger. He wasn't your typical dad—he didn't take pictures every time she picked a booger, he didn't change diapers, he didn't get her any snacks or take her to play dates. But he protected her fiercely, and occasionally I would come home to find him teaching her a simple potion. She loved potions, and he loved that.

And I loved them, so much. He never married me, he never told me he loved me, but I knew. And I fell more and more in love with both of them every day.


	11. Chapter 11

It took me a day to decide, and then five days to convince Katrina's parents not to tell any of the authorities. I convinced them that I could handle him—I could break it off without making a huge deal about it. After all, I was legal—so he wasn't raping me. Of course it was probably against school rules for a teacher to be in a relationship with a student, but I didn't want to get him in trouble, and I didn't want to put myself or any of Katrina's family in danger.

Before we boarded the train to the school, Carlisle grabbed my hand and looked into my eyes. His beautiful blue eyes were clouded with worry. "I wish I could come with you."

"This is something I have to do alone. Don't worry—I'll be alright."

He kissed me ever so gently and quickly, but it still left me breathless. How could he want to be with a monster like me? I didn't know, but I didn't care, either. As long as he would have me… I would be with him. I knew that he would treat me with respect, I knew he wouldn't push me too far, I knew he would love me as well as lust after me. I desperately needed someone who could have a normal relationship, not the emotionally taxing one that I'd been in.

We boarded the train, and the ride went by much too quickly. Neither of us talked. I think she was just as terrified as I was.

Katrina walked with me to his classroom. "Look, Chorrie," she said confidently, "I can tell you're terrified of him. I'm going to stay outside. I'll give you ten minutes to get back outside, and if you're not back, I'm going to get Dumbledore and then coming back for you. Okay?"

Although that scared me a little, it also gave me some relief that she would be my backup. In all honesty, I had no idea how he was going to react. My best guess was that he would be angry. Very angry.

We stopped outside his classroom and she hugged me. "Good luck," she whispered.

I slowly pushed open the door to the room and entered. He wasn't in the classroom. I walked along the wall, seeing if he was in any of the closets, but he wasn't.

As I entered the classroom further I became aware of noises inside his bedroom. It sounded like… _howling_, almost. And crashing, like he was throwing things. Was he angry because of me?

I stood outside his bedroom, afraid to enter. I'd been in there many times before, but he'd always guided me inside. Was I allowed to enter of my own accord?

_You have to do this_, I told myself, and pushed it open.

The door opened to reveal a scene of destruction. Cauldrons had been thrown to the floor and smashed, pieces of wall that he'd probably punched were in piles on the floor, picture frames had been punched through the middle, curtains had been torn. He was lying in a heap on his bed, moaning as if in pain.

A surge of guilt went through my body. "Professor…" I whispered.

He snapped up, his eyes wide and crazy. The wild look that he gave me terrified me—made me want to run in the other direction.

"What are you doing here?" He snarled.

"I came to talk to you," I whispered feebly. Was this crazy anger directed at me?

"What would I want to talk to _you _about?" He hissed. He stood, his hands shaky and his mouth pulled back into an ugly sneer. "I _never _want to see you again, you little whore."

The words cut through my flesh. Although I had intended to end it—I didn't want it to end like this. Why was he so angry? Had he known what I was planning to do?

He pushed me and I stumbled backwards. He punched the wall just inches from my head and I shut my eyes tightly, whimpering. "Go!" He bellowed. "Get out of here!"

I scrambled to get my balance and ran out, expecting him to chase me. But he did not. I stopped halfway to the door of the classroom, listening as he crashed around his room. My heart pounded in my chest. Just as I was about to turn to leave I heard him howl, "He killed her! He killed my Lily!"

_Lily_? A small spark of jealousy ignited in my chest. This was about another woman?

A part of me wanted to go back, reclaim what I had thought was mine. But the smart part of myself made my legs walk out of the classroom. I knew I had made the right decision… the rage-filled bastard in the room behind me wasn't someone I should have been with.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

_Twelve years later_

I pressed my lips lightly against the lips of my husband. He had drifted off to sleep just as I was able to get to bed. "Baby," I whispered. "I'm not ready to sleep yet."

He blinked up at me, his bright blue eyes groggy but not upset that I'd woken him. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said. "I tried to wait up for you."

"That's all right," I purred. "I have no problem with waking you up."

He smiled and then rolled me onto my back. "Good. I'd hate to miss a night of this." He smiled that adorable half-smile and then kissed me. His lips were soft, caring, so full of love that it made me want to cry from happiness every time he kissed me. He wrapped his arms gently around me, lying on top of me. I wrapped my body around him, feeling amazingly safe here, in our house, in his arms.

"I love you," he whispered against my lips.

"I love you too, Carlisle."

And I did. I loved him more than I had ever imagined I would have. It's true that the best relationships grow out of friendships. I knew him as a chunky, shy little boy who collected lizards and talked to flowers. He grew into the man I'd always needed and wanted without my realizing. Thank Merlin he realized.

He kissed down my neck, into my shirt, sucking gently on the tops of my breasts. Even after twelve years, the butterflies in my stomach didn't fade. I moaned as he touched all the right spots, demonstrating how well he knew my body… how well he knew me.

We both groaned when we heard a cry down the hallway. He plopped his head on my chest and said, "Your turn or mine?"

"Go to bed, sleepy," I murmured lovingly. He smiled and rolled off of me, gratitude in his eyes.

I walked lightly down the hall towards the sound of the crying. It was coming from the twins' room. Five weeks old, and obviously still very fussy.

In the first crib, Noah was sound asleep. It was Braxton who was whining. He was usually the whiner of the two. I picked him up and cradled him in my arms. His cries died down immediately, but his eyes stayed open.

Carlisle's eyes.

I sang softly to him while I rocked. He was impossibly soft. Both of our babies were beautiful. I walked with Braxton, down the hall. First on the left was Leila's room, our spunky eleven year old. She had just received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts—oh, she was so excited. Excited to attend a wizarding school for one thing, and also to be in school with the _Boy who Lived. _Carlisle didn't understand her infatuation with that boy.

On the right was Elijah's bedroom, our quiet nine-year old. He was the spitting image of Carlisle and secretly my favorite. He was incredibly sensitive and caring of everyone, two terrific traits.

Then at the end of the hallway was Holly's room, our spoiled little five-year old angel. They were all angels, really. All born with light blonde hair and blue eyes, although Leila's hair was beginning to darken like mine.

My baby fell asleep in my arms, and I kissed him, my heart full of the love that Carlisle had first given me.


End file.
